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'Vi/ 1 ^ 










With 38 Portraits, &c. 2 vols. royal 8vo. 4.2s. 


Compiled from the Letters and Illustrated by the Portraits 
at Claydon Honse, Bucks. 

With a Preface by S. E. GARDINER, M.A., LL.D. 

London : LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO. 

New York : 15 East 16 th Street. 



1650 TO 1660 




'More yet of this 
For 'tis a chronicle of day by day 
Not a relation for a breakfast ' 

VOL. Ill 



righti reire>.l 




THE materials for continuing the Verney Memoirs 
are only too abundant, as, during the latter half of 
the seventeenth century, the letters increase in length 
and in numbers. 

The heroic age of the Civil War is over. No 
later Verney plays such a part in Court and camp as 
Sir Edmund Verney the Standard-bearer, or woman 
claims our love and reverence as did that ' incom- 
parable person ' Dame Mary. But the interest of the 
-story has changed rather than diminished ; we have 
more variety of character ; and the incidents are 
given with greater fulness of detail. In attempting 
to continue Lady Verney's work I have again to 
acknowledge the invaluable help given me by the 
Hon. Mrs. Sotheby and the Hon. Catherine Spring- 
Rice, by Dr. S. R. Gardiner, the Rev. LI. J. Kenyon 
Stow, and other kind friends and correspondents. 


To those readers, American as well as English, 
who have testified their interest in the former part of 
the story, and their wish to know more of Sir Kalph 
Yerney's fortunes, the present volume is committed 
in the words of one of Sir Ralph's letters to their old 
friend Lady Sussex : 

' Bath, 14th August, 1640. 

' Hee that hath neither newes nor businesse and 
yet ventures to Write, had need bee very confident of 
his owne invention or of the friend hee writes to. 
All pretences to the first, I have good reason to dis- 
claime, but for the second I cannot be persuaded to 
quit my interest there. . . . I now presume to trouble 
you with these lines to let you know, there is none 
more ambitious to receive your commands, or readier 
to obey them, than your most faithful and humble 
servant . 


August 1894. 









Sir Ralph's loneliness; his children and his friends Mr. William 
Gee Mr. Thomas Cordell Mr. Du Val State of parties in 
England in 1650 Sir Henry Newton Mistress Jane Pucker- 
ingEnglish exiles at Blois Dean Cosin at Paris Sir 
Richard and Lady Browne Dame Margaret Herbert and 
her miniature Petitot and the enamel workers at Blois 
Death of Sir Charles Gawdy Debts and difficulties Sir 
Ralph considers whether to sell Claydon .... 1 



Sir Ralph visits Paris and starts for a long tour List of his 
clothes Difficulty of taking a Bible into Italy Montpellier, 
Lyons Hardships of Swiss travellmg=The JBattle of Wor- 
cester Florence, Rome Mr. Cordell and his company 
Venice treacle Dr. Morley and Dr. Creighton Mr. Robert 
Spencer London lodgings and a foot- boy Brussels society 
Sir Ralph's return Mr. Gee's marriage . . . .31 





Sir Ralph's devotion to girls and intolerance of boys Mun's 
childhood Expenses of a young Englishman's education at 
Blois Margaret and Mary Eure sent to France The King's 
Evil Nancy Denton Sir Ralph's views on female education 
Jack at Blois, Luce Sheppard's letters Mun's tutor, Dr. 
Creighton Lists of his books and music Herr Skatt's treat- 
ment for a crooked spine The training of a page Mun's 

studies at Utrecht Luce Sheppard returns home with her 
little gentlewomen and Jack Dr. Creighton as Bishop of 
Bath and Wells 60 



John and William Roades the stewards W. Roades' connection 
with the Washingtons ; Amphillis Washington and her sons 
' W. R.'s ' complicated duties The Rev. John Aris Tithes 
Quarrels between parson and steward John Roades, junior 
Sir Ralph's brothers and sisters in 1653 Legacy from the 
Countess of Devonshire Housekeeping at Claydon ; larder, 
cellar, garden, water-supply, fuel Cottagers and their cows 
Farm-tenants, labourers, and paupers Almshouses Monu- 
ment in Middle Claydon Church Guests at Claydon 
Luggage from abroad Trees The brickyard Fresh dis- 
putes with Mr. Aris Mr. Butterfield draws up a treaty of 
' everlasting peace ' Rector and clerk ..... 94 



Tom's downward progress Tries to entrap Lilburne Tom in 
the diurnals Appears against the Duke of Hamilton Joyce 
Verney Forgery, debt, and imprisonment The Fleet Prison 
Emigration schemes Begging letters Tom enlists 
Feigns a march to Scotland Goes to sea in the ' Lyon,' a ship 
of the State Transfers himself to the ' Hannibal,' a merchant- 



ship Accused of treason and discharged Lord Monson in 
the Fleet Tom's Chancery suit Sir Thomas Thynne sues 
him at the Bucks assizes Embarks in mineral speculations 
Marries Miss Kendal 138 



Dr. Denton's family circle Sir George Wheler's account of him 
' Doctor's Widow ' and her daughters Betty Bert's mar- 
riage Moll Gape Xancy Denton Doctors and their profes- 
sion in the seventeenth century Lord and Lady Wenman 
Doctor takes to a coach < Fees Social position of doctors 
Dr. Laurence Wright and his son Doctor Denton sick with 
' a bed-full of books ' Sir Ralph's suit against Lady Ballin- 
glass Doctor's farms in the Fen-lands Protracted nego- 
tiations with the Vermuydens A family trouble Mary 
Verney's marriage with Robert Lloyd Doctor's ague and 
his wife's anxieties 179 



The Major-Generals Henry Verney and his fashionable friends 
Doll Leeke and Vere, Lady Gawdy Penelope Denton The 
Stewkeleys Sir Ralph arrested at Claydon and confined in 
St. James' Palace His fellow-prisoners, Sir Justinian Isham, 
&c. Released upon bond . . . . . . . 217 


1655 1657. 

' Cromwell's Mastiffs ' Sir Justinian Isham at Xorthampton 
A melancholy Christmas Sir Ralph threatened with decima- 
tion Petitions the Protector William Smith's decimation 
Thomas Sandford's letter Sir Ralph pleads at Aylesbury 
William Roades' recollections of Royalist attacks Lady 
Rochester's petition Mun's return The treacherous gar- 
dener Sir Ralph's decimation The Major-Generals swept 
away by Parliament 254 




Mun's return home Family schemes for his marriage A letter 
' that had better been unwrit 'Miss Luckyn Mun renews 
his acquaintance with Margaret and Mary Eure Alianora 
Tryon Peg Eure's suitors Mun falls in love with Mary 
Eure Mr. Butterfield's embassy Dr. Thomas Hyde Mun's 
love-letters Hope deferred Hope abandoned . . . 293 



Jack's industry His childhood and school-life Dr. Fleetwood 
Mr. Kersey Mr. Turberville Jack's love of music State 
of English commerce in 1659 Jack is apprenticed to Mr. 
Gabriel Roberts His outfit and voyage to Aleppo . . .351 



An epidemic at Claydon Death of Parson Aris Roades sickens 
Death of Mr. Hobart at Thame Roades' death Mr. 
Butterfield appointed to Middle Claydon His trials theo- 
logical and domestic His marriage Edmund Denton's 
death His debts The etiquette of widowhood Charles 
Gawdy's marriage Sir Ralph purchases deer Royalist plots ; 
arrest of William Smith ' A horse-physician ' Cromwell's 
death and funeral The ' Majesty Scutcheon ' 387 



Eleanor, Countess of Warwick Settlements on her marriage 
with the Earl of Manchester ; jewels, hangings, and furniture 
Margaret Elmes and her husband agree to part Gary 
Gardiner and her family Small-pox at Preshaw Two 
weddings at Preshaw Betty Verney Peg Elmes and her 
ailments Mary Lloyd A family gathering at Claydon . 427 






Elections for ' Dick's Parliament ' Richard Cromwell's fall 
The Hurly-burly Royalist risings The Rump General 
Monk in London Lady Rochester and Sir Harry Lee Sir 
Ralph a candidate for Parliament Final dissolution of the 
Long Parliament Convention Parliament ' Acclamations 
of wild and sober joy ' at the prospect of the Restoration . 442 

INDEX , 481 



SIR RALPH VERNEY, KT Frontispiece 

From the bust in Middle Claydon Church. 


From a painting by Vandyke at Claydon House. 



From a painting at Claydon House. 


From a painting at Claydon House, probably by Remy, 
' in a blew mantle.' 


From a painting by Vandyke at Claydon. 


From a painting at Claydon House. 


From a painting by Soest at Claydon House. 



From a painting by Van Somers at Ditchley ; reproduced 
by the kind permission of Viscount Dillon. 



From a painting by Sir Peter Lely at Ditchley ; reproduced 
by the kind permission of Viscount Dillon. 






If I had thought thou couldst have died, 

I might not weep for thee ; 
But I forgot when by thy side 

That thou couldst mortal be : 
It never through my mind had past 

The time would e'er be o'er, 
And I on thee should look my last 

And thou shouldst smile no more ! 
And still upon that face I look 

And think 'twill smile again, 
And still the thought I will not brook 

That I must look in vain ! 
But when I speak thou dost not say 

"What thou ne'er leftst unsaid, 
And now I feel, as well I may, 

Sweet Mary ! thou art dead. WOLFE. 

MARY was dead. This was the central fact of Ralph 
Verney's life as he sat in his desolate house at Blois 
in May 1650. As long as Mary lived the loss of 
friends and fortune, the rending asunder of political 
ties, left his real inner life untouched. Absolutely 



devoted to him, her common sense, her piety, and 
not least her playfulness, had made his wife the best 
of counsellors and the most charming of companions. 
Ralph had often thought over Mary's future, and 
had provided for her comfort in the dim far-away 
years when, in the course of nature, she should 
become a widow ; but it had never occurred to him 
that he himself might be left without her. 

' An absolute detestation of all manner of 
Businesse ' and of society fell upon him. ' Ah, 
Deare Doctor,' he writes, ' the sorrows that possess 
my soule are my companions in every place, and 
make the sollitary corners of the world the most 
agreeable to my humour ; for there (when words 
are wanting) I have liberty to weepe my Fill, 
and when these Floodgates can noe longer runn, my 
sighs and groanes bewaile the most unutterable losse, 
that now afflicts, Your most disconsolate and un- 
fortunate servant.' 

Of the seven children born to Sir Ralph and 
Dame Mary, two only survived her ; Edmund, aged 
13, had now been absent from England nearly seven 
years, and John, aged 9, had been at Blois since his 
mother brought him back with her from Claydon in 
1647. These little boys, with a French manservant 
and an English maid or two, formed Sir Ralph's 
household, managed with painful and scrupulous 
economy. In the autumn the family party was 
increased by the arrival of the two little Eure girls, 
with their waiting-gentlewoman Luce Sheppard. 


Better days were now dawning, as the sequestration 
was taken off Sir Ralph's estate ; but creditors were 
clamouring to be paid, and he was honourably 
anxious to cut down all expenses, except those 
necessary for the boys' education, till he could 
satisfy them in full. 

It was not his money-matters only that Sir Ralph 
passed in review during his solitary evenings ; the 
more he pondered over the beauty of his wife's 
character, the more clearly he saw the flaws in his 
own. He thought over 'the rules he had walked 
by,' and desired to amend them where they were 
faulty, and to live up to a higher standard ' God 
haveing bent his Bow like an Enemy, and made me 
desolate, by taking away her that was pleasant in 
mine Eyes, now, now is the Time to breake off my 
shins by righteousnesse, and mine iniquities by 
shewing mercy to the Poore and then . . . whatever 
miseries befall me, they shall all dye with, if not 
before mee, and hee that setts a marke on the Fore- 
heads of those that sigh, and redeemes the soules of 
his servants ; in his own good way and time will 
afford mee deliverance.' 

Dr. Denton is anxious that Sir Ralph should 
have some trusty ' English servant or sister or 
kinsman about him,' who would care for him if he 
should be sick, and who could ' act the part of a 
friend as well as of a servant.' Sir Ralph entirely 
agrees with him, but when he goes over ' the 
cattalogue ' of his relations, he cannot think of one 

B 2 


able to be of use to him that can be spared, and 
he remembers what ill-luck he has had with too 
many of them ; he feels it so hopeless that any 
companionship should take the place of Mary's, that 
he thinks ' 'tis much better to be alone, and trust 
God with all.' 

In the absence of near relations, Sir Ralph had 
three special friends at Blois Mr. William Gee, a 
distant cousin, Mr. Thomas Cordell, and Monsieur 
Duval. Mr. Gee came of a north country family that 
represented Beverley, Cockermouth, or Kingston- 
on-Hull from the first Parliament of James I. to the 
last Parliament of William III. Sir Ralph visited 
his cousin's home when driving from Clay don to 
Malton in 1653, and thus writes to him of the empty 
house and of the changed appearance of the parish 
church under the Puritan regime : ' I have not failed 
to pay my Homage and respects to Bishopp's Burton, 
'twas but a mile out of my way ; soe I rose one hour 
the sooner, and went quite round your Parke and 
Pallace ; and in earnest, though Both doe mourne 
for want of you, theire Master, yet all lay well with- 
out, and cleane enough within. But I confesse had 
it not beene for the Toombe and Steeple, I should 
scarce have knowne either the Church nor Chancell, 
but this disease is Epidemicall, over all our climate, 
therefore you must not think to have it otherwise 

The Cordells were also a parliamentary family. 
A William Cordell represented Bridport in the time 


of Richard II. ; Edward Cordell had sat for Ports- 
mouth in the reign of Elizabeth ; and another mem- 
ber of the family, Robert Cordell, was to be Sir 
Ralph's colleague in the Parliaments after the Resto- 
ration. Mr. Thomas Cordell was a bachelor with 
straitened means, fond of intellectual pursuits, of a 
kind heart, though somewhat hasty temper. He had 
been often driven to borrow money of Sir Ralph in 
sudden emergencies, but their friendship had stood 
the strain. He gave Mun Verney regular lessons in 
Latin, when they all travelled together, and he would 
do ' Mathematicalls ' for diversion with Mr. Gee. He 
had generally one or two young Englishmen with 
him. Royalists, whose parents would not send 
them to Oxford or Cambridge under the Puritan 
regime, and he seerns to have been much liked by 
his pupils. 

Monsieur Duval was an elderly Frenchman, 
whose real name, Sir Ralph tells us, was Duport. He 
had business relations with Englishmen, and was 
often useful to the exiles when he visited London. 
Sir Ralph had a great regard for him, and valued his 
intimate acquaintance with French history and litera- 
ture, which his own increased familiarity with the 
language permitted him now to study and to enjoy. 
After Monsieur Duval' s death in the winter of 1653, 
Mr. Cordell, speaking about him to a Monsieur 
Monfort, mentioned that his wife 'was wont to 
goe and com betweene London and Paris. Upon 
this hee inferred that then certainly hee had two 


wives ; telling mee that Monsieur Du Val was 
borne about Vendosme, and formerly was by pro- 
fession an advocate, and that unfortunately about 
30 yeares agoe, hee killed a man in France, since 
which time (beeing constrayned to fly) he had never 
lived with his wife, but that 3 yeares agoe, hee 
saw his wife at Tours, and dined with her, who 
reproached him very severely of unkindnesse towards 
her. I am very sorry that I unwarily should dis- 
cover this secrett.' 

Sir Ralph refused to lend any credence at all to 
the story, though Mr. Cordell, while commending his 
charity, thought ' the presumptions very urgent 
on the other side. . . . Monsieur Monfort seems to 
be a man of very good fashion. . . . But let it 
bee as it will bee in God's name.' Whatever sad 
secrets may have been hidden in Monsieur Duval's 
past life, the four men met in very good fellowship, 
and Monsieur Duval's letters occur constantly in 
the correspondence of the next four years. Sir Ralph 
had a great horror of smoking, but the friends played 
at chess and discussed the latest news from England 
over a glass of the old canary sack that Mary had 
brought from the Claydon cellars. Sir Roger Bur- 
goyne's weekly letter to Sir Ralph provided the best 
political and social gossip for these evening dis- 
cussions ; whether he announced a great victory of" 
' our General ' [Cromwell] over the Scots, or that 
' the statues of King James and King Charles were 
pull'd downe from Pauls the last week, and that of 


King Charles from the Exchange.' nothing was too 
serious or too trivial for Sir Roger's industrious pen. 

Dr. Denton sent out a curious account of two 
books that had been published in the previous year 
(1649), called ' Xew Lights shininge in Bucks.' 
' The Doctrine is briefly this, that Kings are of the 
Beast and the Divell, that there ought to be com- 
munitie and levellinge, and declares that all men 
beinge alike priviledged by birth, they were to enjoy 
the creatures alike, without propriety one more then 
another ; and noe man to Lord or command over his 
owne kind, nor to enclose the creatures to his owne 
use, and that the Levellers' principles are most just 
and honest.' 

In the spring of KjfjO a well-informed friend, 
signing himself ' J. R.,' sent to Sir Ralph a graphic 
picture of the state of parties in England. He was 
a moderate man, not much in love with any of them, 
who only wished for peace and a settled government. 
Cromwell's figure already loomed large in the Parlia- 
ment that was helpless to control so formidable a 
servant. ' Sir, I am much ashamed to be soe long- Feb. u, 


in performing my promise to write you an account 
of affaires heere. (1st.) As to the Presbyterian 
party, they were never more aggrieved than now 
in conscience and estate. Take the new engage- 
ment they cannot, because it is (say they) ex- 
pressly contrary to the covenant, and if they do 
not they must starve and begg, and be worse then 
sequestration, for they are outlawed persons and can- 


nott sue for tythe or other real estate, and cannot 
have a fifth allowed them as the worst of the 
Cavaliers have. I (who have taken this engagement) 
do think this summum jus : yet they may see a just 
hand in it, for they sequestered any man who would 
not take the covenant, and adjudged them friends 
(though in heart enemyes) who tooke it. Willingly 
I would have no more Oaths nor Engagements by 
compulsion, till We have either kept what we have 
taken or repented for what we have broken. (2nd.) 
As to the Independent party, of "which many are 
truly Godly and pious, their noinber increases little, 
because Atheism increases soe fast ; for indeed many 
who had great knowledge in Spiritual things, are 
now puffed up with vaine fancyes to live above 
Ordinances, yea above the Scriptures, and at last 
declare vice to be virtue, that God sees no sinne, a 
sad generation of People. This puts me in minde of 
the (3d) sorte of people, I meane the Levellers, most 
of which party have been cordyall against the 
common enemy, yet of Principles inconsistent with 
the word of God (which is the rule I desire to walke 
by), ffor but foure dayes since, the Council of State 
sent to apprehend a grand Leveller, who uppon the 
approach of the first Messenger stabd him to the 
heart with a dagger, and soe he did the second, laid 
him dead on the ground also ; and the third he 
mortally wounded, who is also since dead. The 
Councell of State putt out a Proclamation offering 
50L to any man to approach this Leveller, whose 


name was Marston (once of the Army) but the bold 
Leveller returnes this answer in print and setts it 
upon Whitehall gate, that he justyfyes the act to be 
lawfull, and will be the death of whomsoever shall 
attempt to secure his person. His party upheld him 
in it, yet he keepes private, for the soldiers would 
secure him, knew they where he was. Heere is such 
a transmutation of affaires, Religions, and opinions, 
that no man knowes well how to demeane him- 
selfe without offence. My (4th &) last party I 
shall instance, are the Cavalieres, whose wisdome 
and necessity, rather then goodwill, inclines them 
to be quiett. The better sort will hardly stirr, the 
lower sort of squeirs . . . are ready to rise, soe great 
are their wants ; an act of Oblivion with a con- 
dition of good behaviour (else to forfeit it) would doe 
good, but 'tis petit treason to speake it. Yesterday 
the House voted the continuance of the Council of 
State, (which to some of the House was too much a 
signe of perpetuity ;) onely 4 men excepted (1) the 
deceased L. of Pembroke i 1 (2 &3) the E. of Mulgrave, 
and L. Gray of Warke, because they never sate in 
Councell since they were chosen : (4) Sir John 
Danvers by vote laid aside, the reasons are rather 
private than publique, for nothing but voluntas 
appeared above board. The next great thing in 
agitation is, what is to be done now the Generall 
scruples the Engagement, which he hath been pressed 

1 ' Philip of Pembroke, the loiid-voiced Chancellor of Oxford, is 
dead.' Carlyle's Cromwell, vol. iii. p. 140. 


to subscribe unto, (as the whole Army hath done.) 
His answer is, he desires to hinder none to take it. 
He will serve the Parlement as faithfully as any that 
doe take it, and he beleeves the Parlement is per- 
suaded ten thousand take it, who would destroy 
the Parliament had they power and opportunity. 
And he hopes the experience they had of him will 
not give occasion of distrusting him. When my L. 
Lieutenant comes over, you will then understand the 
issue of this businesse. God direct the present Au- 
thority to oblige and not to disengage friends, for they 
are very few, not one in a hundred left as was when 
you went hence. God's worke in hand will goe on, 
yett I question by what hands, for selfe, self-interest 
will dash it in pieces ; the Lord knowes that sinne 
raignes too much at this tyme.' Such a letter as this 
must have been read and read again by the little 
company of English exiles. 

Amongst his wandering fellow-countrymen who 
passed through the town, none had been more wel- 
come at Sir Ralph's board than the lighthearted and 
eccentric Sir Henry Newton, who had found so much 
in common with Mary's ready wit and merry humour. 
The friendship was of long standing, as Sir Henry's 
father, Adam Newton, had been a colleague of Sir 
Edmund Verney's in the households of Prince Henry 
and Prince Charles. Sir Adam Newton married 
Catherine, sister of Sir Thomas Puckering (or Picker- 
ing), Bart., M.P. for Tamworth in the parliaments of 
1620 to 1627. The carrying off of Sir Thomas 


Puckering' s daughter and heiress by Joseph Walsh 
in October 1649, while walking with her maids close 
to her own home, was one of the causes celebres of the 
day. 1 Sir Henry Xewton after his last visit to Blois 
had gone off to Holland to look after this poor girl r 
' a certaine Cosen of mine, Mrs. Jane Puckering, 
that was stolen away out of Grenwich parke last 
Michelmas, by the Walshes of Worcestershire, who 
forcing her upon landing to say something for their 
advantage, sue her upon a marriage, and have made 
a shift to gett her into a Monastery at Newport 
[Nieuport] where shee is a perfect prisoner, and in 
great distressed 

To carry off an heiress and force her into a 
marriage had been no uncommon feat for the wilder 
spirits amongst the young Cavaliers ; but the Com- 
monwealth, with its anxious provisions for public 
morality, afforded to women a protection they had 
never known before. Prompt measures were taken by 
the Council of State ; the difficulties made in Holland 
about surrendering Mistress Jane were met by a still 
more peremptory demand. Soon after Sir Henry's visit 
an English man-of-war was sent over to bring her 
home, and an indictment of felony was found against June - 
Walsh and his companions. Sir Henry inherited her 
fortune at her death, and took the name of Puckering- 
Newton. 2 

1 See The Interregnum, by F. A. Inderwick, Q.C., pp. 40, 42, where 
full details are given. 

2 He often signed himself Henry Puckering before this accession of 
fortune. Perhaps it was already his Christian name. 


On his way to visit Mistress Jane he writes to 
Sir Ralph in his airy way of a duel he had to fight : 
' I mett at sea with a rencontre of a person who bored 
some few holes in mee at landing, which have done 
mee this only despight, that they kept me away so 
much longer then I intended from my Cosen, and 
you ; of two pricks scarcely worth the naming, one 
of them hath been kind to mee about the belly, but 
the other now seven weekes in cure I doubt will 
domineere among the sinewes a moneth longer before 
I gett my arme at liberty.' This letter was written 
in ignorance of Dame Mary Yerney's death. Sir 
Henry, who with all his jests and oddities had a 
warm heart, was shocked to hear of his friend's 
bereavement on bis return to France from Holland. 
Sept. 1650 He writes to Sir Ralph from Rouen : ' The sound of 
your sadnesse first struck my eares at Flushing, but 
heere it strikes my heart to know the truth of it. I 
was at first unwilling to beleeve so unexpected a mis- 
fortune, But now I must not only bee content 
amongst crosses of all sorts God hath pleas'd to send 
us, to beare also this unesteemable losse of so noble 
a friend, But as a friend and hearty sufferer with you 
must begg of you to beare it patiently, And though 
the tendernesse of our affections will for some time 
give way unto our passions, yett upon better con- 
sideration our reason must subinitt unto God's will, 
in whose only power 1 it is, to give you comfort at 

1 'Of whose only gift it cometh.' Collect for 13th Sunday after 


present, or further punishment herafter in the like 
sort. . . . This fate hath made some changes also in 
my intentions, butt must make much greater in yours ; 
I did intende my wife for Blois so soone as shee 
should bee brought to bedd (w ch I expect hourely). 
But that place now will bee too malencholly for either 
you or her. ... I am oblig'd by businesse to stay some 
dayes in this sick towiie, or else, although the wayes 
are everywhere unsafe for travell, And my owne late 
indisposition makes mee not altogether so fitt for it. 
I should have come myselfe in the place of this letter.' 
The plague was raging at Rouen, whence Sir Henry 
wrote in September 1650 : ' On Tuesday last died 
83 persons.' 

Sir Ralph replies : ' I confesse .till now I never 
knew what sorrow was, this, oh this, farre exceedes 
all my other misfortunes, and hath put me uppon soe 
many severall resolutions that now I know not what 
to resolve uppon. G-od direct me for the best, my desire 
is to satisfie my creditors in England and some other 
occations will tye me, and consequently my children 
heere this winter. Italy is very much in my thoughts, 
and I could wish it were not out of yours. . . . Had 
I not sould my Horses, my coach should come to 
Rouen to fetch both you and your Family.' 

Sir Henry felt that the best service he could render 
his friend was to go to him at once ' rather than any 
more to rubb over his sore, at so great distance.' 

' If our severall occasions could allow us both to 
live in the same place, Beleeve it, S r , sans compliment 


It is the height of my Ambition, and so you shall 
beleeve when I shall bee so happie as to show you 
the bosome of 

' S r , your faithfull friend and humble servant, 


Sir Ralph, though he has ' a passionate desire ' to 
see so good a friend, declares that he must not think 
of travelling so far to stay ' for such a spurt ' ; but Sir 
Henry was not to be put off. A month later Sir 
Ralph acknowledges gratefully the comfort he had 
derived from his society ; he and Mr. Gee had ridden 
a stage with Sir Henry on his journey back to Paris, 
and he writes to him from Blois on his return : 
* Deare S r , I long to heare of your safe arrivall, for 
after wee parted my Horse not only stumbled and 
Fell, but could not rise againe (as leane and light as 
I am) till I gott off his Back, and my Coz. Gee was 
much more troubled with his, soe that we came home 
somewhat later then wee expected, and I have very 
much to write to England, neverthelesse I must 
needes in these few lines expresse some part of my 
Thankfulnesse for all your favours, and cheifly for 
your good company at this time of my Distresse ; 
certainly if Mortall man could merrit anything of 
Heaven, this moneth's Pennance, and your patient 
enduring of it, would purchasse you a most glorious 
Place There. . . . that neglecting your owne con- 
tentment you rather choose to suffer heere with him, 
that now you are gon, must againe resume the title 


of Your most unfortunate, and afflicted servant, 

Sir Henry's reply is characteristic : ' Sir, though 
I am out of humour, you ought to bee quite other- 
wise, for you are ridd of the most troublesome fellow 
that ever came into your quarters. Therefore bee 
merry if yew love mee, or if yew love your selfe, and 
those that love yew. . . . Forgive mee all my faults 
and troubles to you and the rest of my noble convoy, 
and conjure them from mee to doe so too, or else If 
sack and Sugar bee a sin Lord help the wicked that 
pursued with such violence your Kindnesse to undoe. 

' Deare Sir your most affectionate oblig'd humble 

It is refreshing to find that Sir Henry knows his 
Falstaff, as Shakespeare is so little in fashion that he 
is seldom quoted in the letters except by Dr. Denton. 
Sir Henry next writes from Paris concerning an 
old coat which Sir Ralph has asked him to sell for 
him : it is difficult to get a good price for it, and no 
wonder, as ' the moths have been very busie with 
it ! ' ' Our English Louvre Lords are gone to 
Fontainebleau,' writes Sir Henry ; ' I doe not know 
their errand .... there was whispering (and some 
say crying) at the Louvre for the King's leaving 
their partie in Scotland, and going God knowes 
whither, but God knowes too how true it is, though 
I heard it amongst our greatest intelligencers. . . . 
I languish for a mate at chesse, more than a woman 
[Lady Newton has evidently arrived], therefore can- 


not but reflect upon the pleasures I had with you. . . . 
My Lord Jermin is going to the Hague, to condole 
and congratulate [the Prince of Orange had died of 
small-pox], which are such contrarieties that you 
and I (I doubt) are not courtiers enough to under- 

Sir Henry refers to Sir Ralph's ' morall counsells 
and divine w ch you know, proceeding from you, I 
observe as religiously as any Canons of the Church. 
. . . My service to all the Noble Squiers of the 
Strong fire side fromage table ; where give mee leave 
(at least) to envie you amidst your storys, your 
divinitie and Mathematicks, drinking my health, and 
judging, not the twelve tribes of Israel (like my 
lord Goring) but mee, for neither fish nor flesh 
nor good redd hering.' We come upon one of the 
French chess-players again, Monsieur Poppein (or 
Pappin), many years later in a letter from Sir Ralph 
at Claydon promising ' to attend the Earl of Salisbery 
about your businesse, and truly I will doe my best 
to serve you in it, and doe not despaire of good 
successe, 'tis a sad thing that any Englishman 
should give you soe much trouble, considering your 
affection and readinesse to serve the nation.' 

Sir Ralph receives some more friends at Blois 
during that autumn : ' Charles Needham my very 
good acquaintance and a fine youth ' and Sir Philip 
Mountaine are there ; Mr. Ayloffe and my Lord 
Downe ; and Lord Falkland, whose society was most 
uncongenial to Sir Ralph and who must have differed 


widely from his father, famed not only for his ' pro- 
digious parts of learning,' bat for his ' inimitable 
sweetness and delight in conversation.' ' My Lord 
and his roaring Boyes are just as you left them,' he 
writes to Mr. Ayloffe, ' the old trade goes on still, 
they are noe changlings I assure you, but here are now 
some others (of more yeares and other tempers) with 
whose conversation I am sure my Lord Downe and 
you would have been very much pleased.' Mr. 
Ayloffe takes up the phrase and presents his re- Sept. so, 
spects to ' my Lord Faulkland and his roring boys.' ' 
Does Dr. Denton refer to the same delightful family 
party when he writes in answer to a letter of Sir 
Ralph's, from Blois : ' I am sorry for my Lord, for 
doubtless she is Styx, Acheron, Phlegeton, Cerberus 
una sibi, and I am sorry for his daughter, for certainly 
many piggs are better kept and bred ' ? Giles, Lord 
Allington, ' that knight of the sun,' and Mr. Harrison 
' his governour,' Mr. Hussey, and ' Count Hide ' are 
also mentioned as staying at Blois. 

Sir Ralph receives a cheerful letter from the 
Hon. Hatton Rich, stepson of his old friend, Lady 
Warwick, from the lodgings which he and Mary 
formerly occupied at Tours : ' Your friend Antoinette, 
and all the rest heere, kisse your hands, but if they 
should know that you will not allow them to be 
belles, I beleive it would breedeill blood betwixt you. 

1 Lord Falkland after the Restoration published The Marriage 
Night, a comedy, doubtless in the taste of the roaring boys of the 



I have formerly cotnended the Hay for good people, 
but indeed, these are soe far before them, as ther's 
noe comparison, and for the good old man heere, be 
doth soe confound me w th Civillities, both by words and 
actions, that if he was an old woman, I thinke verily I 
should marry him. Now I come to tell you perticulars : 
first, for outward Ceremony, he will hardly put on 
his hat w ith out I use iny Rethoricke w ith him, hardly 
eat a bit of meate w ith out I face him to it, then 
if he sees that I doe not eate, he is alwaies Chiding 
his daughters that they doe not get me that I like, 
soe, that I am forc't to eate 'till I burst againe, 
although I have no Appetite ; and alwaies laugh 
though I am malancholy, lest they should think 
something displeas'd mee ; he hath heard that I 
borrowed mony sometimes at the Hay, he hath ask't 
my man forty times already, whether I want any, 
and that all he hath is at my service, soe that I 
thinke I must be fain to borrow mony of him, least 
he should take it ill of mee (but pray let not my 
Lord Willoughby know that, least he should againe 
dune mee), for Rolic apart, they are the best people 
in the world.' 

On Christmas Day a party of the English exiles 
met at dinner, and Sir Henry Newton writes from 
Rouen that he would gladly have made their number 
31, instead of 30. He still retains an affectionate re- 
membrance of the noble company at Blois, ' who if 
they were to be purchased with gold, I would not 
grudge to give my bookes, or the wayte of them for 


Mr. Gee, for Mr. Cordell and Mr. du Yal, but 
chiefly for Sir Ralph I would give myselfe.' As 
he could not keep his Christmas among friends 
and Cavaliers, Sir Henry proposes to himself, as an 
action of charity suited to the day, to try and forgive 
the Presbyterians ; but he feels this to be almost an 
impossible task, and cheers himself with the assurance 
' that God Almighty will not.' When he thinks of 
Sir Ralph and ' that good Mr. Cordell,' he feels that 
' Blois must thrive for Obed-Edom's house.' Better 
days were coming for this cheerful philosopher ; he 
lived to see the Presbyterians driven out, and to 
enjoy a good fat sinecure himself, when the King- 
came to his own again. 

Amongst the English exiles to whom Sir Ralph 
showed kindness were several old friends, distressed 
clergymen of the Church of England Dr. Morley, 
Cosin, Dean of Peterborough ( ' since L d Bishop of 
Durham'), and Dr. Creighton, afterwards Bishop of 
Bath and Wells. Sir Ralph wrote to Dr. Cosin at 
Paris apologising for sending him ' a little Box with 
40 Livres in it,' a sum he and Mary could ill spare, 
however small it appeared compared with the merits 
and necessities of one ' that had formely enjoyed and 
soe well deserved a great part of our Churches 
Patrimony.' Dr. Cosin thanked him for the gift 
and the privacy with which it was conveyed to him. May 17 
' Whatever my want be, you have made yo r 
oblation at an Altar, where I shall never want an 
Eucharist for you, w ch being all y e Retribution y l I 

c 2 


am able to make you, you wil be pleased to accept 
from him, whose most hearty pray'rs are daily offered 
up unto God for you.' 

Dean Cosin was a constant preacher- at Sir 
Richard Browne's chapel at Paris, that great meeting- 
place of the English Protestant exiles, and was there- 
fore well known to them all. Evelyn, who met him 
again in 1663 as the rich and powerful Prince 
Bishop of Durham, complains that ' he little re- 
member'd in his greatnesse those that had been kind 
and assisted him in his exile.' But in 1650, and for 
many years after, he was hi sad distress. Lord 
Hatton writes of him in 1654 : ' Mr. Deane Cosins 
is exceeding ill ... wee shall be sencible of his loss 
when he is gone. He is exceeding poore . . . even 
to the want of necessityes for his health and hath 
not anything heere coming in, for officiating at the 
Residents weekely, and with the Duke of Gloucester 
dayly.' ' 

Dr. Cosin had been ordered by Charles I. to draw 
up a book of private devotions for the Protestant 
ladies of the Court, reproached by the Queen's French 
ladies with having no breviaries. 2 This little book, 
called by the Puritans ' Cosin's cosining Devotions,' 
as having a Romish flavour, he hastened to send to 
Sir Ralph when he heard of his bereavement, and Sir 
Ralph appreciated it highly. 

There is also a pleasant correspondence with Sir 

1 See Nicholas Papers, vol. ii. p. 102, Carnden Society. 

2 See Evelyn's Diary for October 1, 1651. 


Richard Browne and Elizabeth his wife. Sir Ralph 
sent them some fruit ' a Box of Blois grapes, and 
a Box of Sour Prunes, St. Catherine's ; . . . a trifle, 
but the best I can now get ' and presented Sir Richard 
Hastings to them. The minister thanks him for ' his 
noble token. . . . Our letters from Ingland speake Jan. 26, 
of Crum well's cumminge over shortly, His Majesties 
remove from Jersey is nott yett resolved, neyther the 
time, nor place, God direct him in all his undertakings, 
and give you and yours all the happinesse can be 
wished you.' 

When Luce Sheppard and her little charges 
passed through Paris, Lady Browne was kind to 
them ; and charged Luce to find at Blois, perhaps at 
the great annual fair, some fur which she could not 
buy in Paris. Luce failed to do so, but Sir Ralph, 
glad to show Lady Browne any mark of respect, 
came to the rescue. ' Madame,' he writes, ' Finding NOV. 24, 
by Luce, you had occation for some Fur, and that 
she could not fit you in this Towne, I haveing such 
a one, as I guessed might possibly serve your turne 
(though I could not then come at it) have adventured 
to send it now, togeather with some other odd Trifles 
w ch I must beeseech you to accept, though I confesse 
they are not worth receiving. Madame, had I not a 
very greate experience of your goodnesse, I should 
not have presumed to tender such inconsiderable 
Toyes as these, to a person of your Meritt.' 

Sir Ralph keeps a note that ' with this letter I 
sent her : 

& 1650 


A greate White Furr to cover a Bedd. 

2 Paires of Frenchpain Gloves. 

12 Paires of Eng : White Gloves. 

12 yrds of Eng : Scarlet Ribbon, 6 penny Broad, 

12 yrds of 2 penny Broad to it. 

A paire of Scarlet silk stockings, with a paire of 
Turkey Garters to them. 

An excellent Spanish pocket cover with Scarlet 
Taffaty, and a Box of Dried Grapes with 4 
laires 3 p. besides the Box.' 

A gentleman might now hesitate to send to the 
wife of the English Ambassador at Paris ' a paire of 
scarlet silk stockings, with a paire of Turkey Garters 
to them ' ; but in such evil days Lady Browne took 
these additions to her wardrobe in very good part, 
lamented the ' small capacity ' she and her husband 
now had to serve Sir Ralph, and signed herself 
' untill some happy opportunity of Requitall, in all 
gratefullnesse ' his most obliged humble servant. 
Her son and daughter are also Sir Ralph's humble 
servants. This daughter was the wife of John 
Evelyn ; during his absence, to settle his affairs in 
England, she remained for a time at Paris, 'yet 
very young, under the care of an excellent lady 
and prudent mother.' l Lady Browne did not 
long enjoy her great white fur rug: she went to 
England the next summer for her daughter's con- 
finement, and soon after caught scarlet fever and 

1 Evelyn's Diary, September 10, 1647, and September 22, 1652. 


died * an excellent and virtuous lady,' says her son- 
in-law, ' having been so obliging on all occasions, to 
those who continually frequented her house in Paris, 
which was not only an hospital, but an asylum to 
all our persecuted and afflicted countrymen, during 
eleven years' residence there in that honourable 

Sir Ralph was fond of pictures, as befitted a man 
who had known Cornelius Jansen and Vandyke, and 
was held to be somewhat of a connoisseur. 

Susan Alport, his eldest sister, was ambitious 
to collect as many family pictures as possible in her 
own room at Overton Manor. She is to have 
' Doctor's goode face ' and wants Ralph's portrait 
and Mary's to be done ' both of a bigness.' 

A commission that gave Sir Ralph much more 
trouble was one from Margaret, formerly Mrs. Gary, 
now the wife of Sir Edward Herbert. 1 As with Lady 
Browne, Sir Ralph's civilities first take the form of a 
box of Blois grapes and ' a Box of Plumbes, St. 
Katherin, from Tours.' Lady Herbert was living in 
Paris, where Jean Petitot's fame as a miniature painter 
on enamel had made these exquisite little portraits the 
fashion of the day. The Genevan goldsmith won his 
reputation in England, in the palmy days of Charles 
I.'s patronage -of art. Lodged at Whitehall under 
the charge of Sir Edmund Yerney as Knight 
Marshal, Petitot had gained fresh colours from 

1 Sir Edward Herbert had been Attorney-General to Charles I., 
and was made Lord Keeper by Charles II, in 1653. 


Mayerne's knowledge of chemistry, and Vandyke him- 
self had superintended his work. He accompanied 
the exiled English Court to Paris, where Louis XIV. 
lodged him in the Louvre, and the most distinguished 
people in Europe came to him to be painted. 
Evelyn mentions one of his enamels as amongst 
' his Majestie's rarities ' at Windsor. Darne Margaret 
Herbert, who brought to the patronage of art the 
frugal mind of a British matron, required Sir Ralph 
to find for her in the provinces as good a painter as 
Petitot at half his price. Sir Ralph felt the task to 
be an impossible one ?> though Blois had kept its fame 
for goldsmith's work, and some faint afterglow of its 
Renaissance glory ; he had too true an appreciation 
of Petitot's genius. 

Dame Margaret Herbert writes in April 1650 : 
' If my picture of Vandike be with you, I pray speak 
with the man that did S r Richard Hastingses watche, 
to see at what rate he will make one in amell. I 
would have all the Picture, and desier to have it 
exactly donne, for it is for a person that is very 

May 5, Sir Ralph replies : ' According to your command 

I have shewed your pickture, and I think you 
meane to have a picture, not a watch, yet I am 
not absolutely certaine, because your words are these 
(I pray speake with the man that did S r Richard 
Hastings' watch, to see at what Rate hee will make 
one in Enamell) ; now if you intend a Pickture, hee 
tells mee hee will doe his best endeavour to please, 


/ / 

re in a pa in tina '< 

i ^' 

f aJ~> (yCaAuiffn. ^/ . 


the gold will come to at least 15 livres, and (being it 
must be so well donn, and must have all the Pickture 
in it) hee will have seaven pistolls meerely for his 
paynes, he saies hee had 5 of S r R: Hastings, besides 
the gold, and that was but ye middle, but in this must 
bee both your hands, a Dogg, a chaire, and Trees which 
is much more worke, but some little part of the 
4 corners (and the Body of the dog is at one of them) 
must needes bee left out, because the origenall is 
square, and I presume you intend his coppy shall bee 
ovall. ... Be pleased to send me the size in paper, and 
what kinde of loope you would have made at y e Topp 
to fasten it by, and whether there shall bee any 
thinge at the Bottome to hang gems on, and what 
other directions you thinke fit.' 

Mary Verney's death at Blois, and Lady Herbert's 
confinement at Paris, interrupted the correspondence, 
but she resumed it on July 22, 1650. 

' Sir, If you can boro so much time of your sad 
thoughts you will doe me a favour to gett my picture 
made in amell.' Sir Ralph's letter had not shaken 
Dame Margaret's orthography, which, like her taste 
in art, was all her own. ' For the sise I leave to the 
workman's discreation, only I desier bothe the hands 
may be donne. I would have no ring at the bottom 
only one at the top to hang it by, and on the back 
side flowers or anything he can doe best. I hope hee 
will doe it as well as Pettito, which I should be very 
glad of, for he has used me very ill.' 

Sir Ralph believes that ' whosoever drawes yours 


heere you must expect to have it as farre short of 
Pettito's Worke, as Jolmson's [Jansen's] was of 
Vandike's. I am very sorry that Pettito hath used 
you ill, for I meant to intreate your care of one or two 
that (if hee bee not too deere) I intended hee should 
draw for mee. I am sure you can tell his Lowest 
price, and how long hee is usually about one of the 
ordinary size that he copies after Yandike.' 
Aug. is, Lady Herbert replies : ' I shall desier the picture 

1G50 J , 

may be donne, by him that works best thear, Pettito 
dos none under 15 pistoels [a pistol was worth about 
16s.] . I imployed him to do the Prinses Sopias picture, 
and after 6 monthes expectation he brought it me so 
ill donne, that I did not take it, the truthe was it was 
donne by his companion who dos now most of his work 
[his brother-in-law Bordier] , and if you will have any 
thing from him I cannot promise you better dealing, 
for I thought I deserved more respect from him. 
When he fail'd me, I gott the picture copied in 
liming by one that did it rarely, the same man has 
donne some things in amell. I am very confident he 
will out doe Pettito. I tould him you desired to 
have some donne and he is content to undertake it, 
if it be a picture of Vandike's he must doe it after, 
els he will not trouble himself with it.' 

Sir Ralph finds the Blois artist as dear as Petitot, 

and all work is suspended during the grape gather- 

Sept. is, ing. ' I hate to have anything stik long in his 

Fingers, but when he begins it I beeseech you bee 

pleased to assure your selfe I shall take as greate, 


nay a greater care about the doing of it, then if it were 
my owne, and if my dilligence could contribute any 
thing to its perfection, night and day the Painter 
should bee Haunted by, Madam, Your most faithfull 
though most unfortunate servant, VEKNEY.' 

The painter must have had a lively time of it, 
with Sir Ralph's visits and Dame Margaret's sugges- 
tions and economies. ' Sir,' she writes on receiving 
the sketch for her miniature, ' I thinck that whear the 
head is bigest, will be best if he can make any thing 
come over that arrne that wants the hand, a pees of 
the scarf as I have marked it with the pen, or els to 
make the head of the dog come up in that holow 
between the arm and the body, but beeing he leaves 
out so much of the picture, me thinks he should bate 
something off his prise, which as I remember was 
7 pistolls, that which is making hear is finish't all but 
some little touches, and is in my opinion far beyond any 
thing ever Petitto did. I am told Petito dos none 
now under 20 pistolls of the bigest sise I sent you.' 
Whether the lady, the dog, the chair, and trees 
were all got into the little enamel, we do not hear ; 
but it is not surprising that Petitot found it hard 
to satisfy her ladyship's ' curiosity.' 

The Blois artist accomplished only a partial suc- 
cess. The gold sank in the middle. The colours of 
the ' origenall are grown yellow, but I think he hath Dec. 1650> 
made the Flesh of this to Gray, Good Madame, let me 
heare how you like it in all points, and let not this 
man's ill fortune, or want of skill, make you beeleeve 


I did not conjure him to doe his utmost.' This is 
not the only bargaining we hear of with an artist ; 
Dec. 6, ' Gary is very desirous of your picture,' writes Brother 
Stewkley to Sir Ralph, ' but is troubled to heare that 
sitting is a posture you like not, hee that drew plans, 
lives in the new street by Cursitor ally a Dutch man, 
his name is Ruse, my brother paid him 31., as I take 
it for frame and case and all.' 

Sir Ralph's letters from England were sad enough ; 
public affairs were very unsettled, and each member 
of the family had his or her own troubles : ' Elmes 
hath Tom in prison uppon 2 suites. . . . Betty 
wants cloathes and there is a small crosse caper about 
her going to Pegg ; D r made Pegg cry about it and 
will bee at her againe, Harry also told her her owne, 
as D r heares.' 

Penelope's baby only lived long enough ' to be 
maid a Christian sole.' Mary needed an ' adishon ' to 
her allowance, and Henry is so unpleasant that Sir 
Ralph will rather 'dispise the Deedes of such a des- 
perate Dick, then suffer himselfe to be dared out of 

Dr. Denton sent him news of the death of an old 
NOV. 14, friend. ' Y r letter came to me att Giddy Hall .... 
in a sad home S r Charles beinge newly dead, he died 
very willingly and excellently well to the great admira- 
tion of all, and God's strength appeared in his weak- 
ness wonderfully, for for many houres togeather he was 
in a most heavenly extasie. And he died as much and 
more a Courtier then ever I sawe, paying great civili- 


ties most heavenly by way of praier and benediction 
to wife, children, kindred, servants and friends. It is 
a sad story to tell y u how ill his children and debts 
are left, both he and his wife and divers others 
thought the younger children had beene particularly 
provided for by 400 1 per Ann. and for ought I see by 
any deeds that yett appeare they had only a power to 
provide for them but it not beinge executed they have 
not one groat left them. S r Charles his sickness was 
a spotted feaver ; ... he is to be buried in Suffolke 
and I find my lady will as you, beare all the charges 
of coaches, horses and men.' Sir Henry Newton wrote 
to Sir Ralph in December : * I am heavily sensible of 
poor Charles Gaudy's death, though comforted among 
his friends, that as hee lived so honest a Cavalier, hee 
died so good a Christian.' 

Sir Ralph was planning a journey to Italy : he 
would allow himself three months to wind up his 
affairs, then give his address to none but the Doctor 
and Sir Roger, with power to the Doctor to burn 
his letters. The tangle of debts between himself and 
young Edmund Denton is so complicated that he 
writes in despair : ' It shall not bee longer in hand 
then the distance we are at doth necessarily require, 
but if all that I can write, shall bee called a labarinth 
and scrupulous, and looked uppon as nieerely dillatory, 
I can say noe lesse then that None are soe Uinde as those 
that will not seeJ 

Sir Ralph had considered, soon after he became a 
widower, whether he ought not to sell Claydon ; the 


market is so glutted with the sale of ' Church lands, 
Crowne lands, and Malignants' Estates ' that Claydon 
would sell cheap. ' But if there is no other remedy,' 
he writes, ' I had rather sell it all, then a part of it, 
and if it must goe, the sooner tis gonn the more money 
will bee left. And if I must bee soe unhappy, I wish 
I knew it now, for if I sell this land, I shall forever 
bid adieu to England, and then I would not burry 
my deare wife there, for whensoever it pleaseth God 
to call me to him, I much desire, and (as shee did) 
shall make it my request, to have my Bones burried 
by hers (and if I tooke care for that, she bid mee lay 
her where I pleased), soe that when our soules and 
bodies shall be reunited, wee may goe hand in hand 
to Heaven togeather. And tho' that in the resurrec- 
tion none marry nor are given in Marriage, yet I hope 
(without being censured for curiosity) I may piously 
beleeve, that Wee who ever from our very childhoods 
lived in soe much peace, and Christian concord heere 
on Earth, shall alsoe in our Elder yeares for the full 
compleating of our Joyes, at least be knowne to one 
another in Heaven. And I assure you D r as the con- 
fidence of this is one of the greatest comforts I now 
enjoy, soe the contemplation thereof (even when I 
am almost swallowed up of Loud sorrow) yeelds 
some measure of contentment to your most afflicted 




Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, 

My heart iintravell'd fondly turns to thee. GOLDSMITH. 

THE three mouths Sir Ralph had given himself to 
wind up his money matters had extended to six, and 
yet the business seemed but little advanced ; however, 
in March 1651, he is making his last preparations at 
Blois for a prolonged tour. 

His continued absence from England was a great 
grief to the two faithful friends, Dr. Denton and Sir 
Roger Burgoyne, who had shown him a love scarcely 
less devoted and tender than that of Mary herself. 
They had hoped that when the sad business devolving 
upon him after her death was finished, he would turn 
his thoughts homewards. But Sir Ralph still felt 
that he might be imperilling his personal liberty by 
returning, and in the unsettled state of politics in 
England he could not see his way to taking any 
share in public life. With his attachment to the 
Church of England and his horror of government by 
the sword, he was out of sympathy with Crom- 


well ; and after stoutly resisting Charles I., he was 
still less likely to be attracted by the coterie of in- 
triguing Royalists with their squabbles and jealousies 
at the Hague or in Paris ' the Louvre Lords,' as Sir 
Henry Newton contemptuously calls them. Added 
to this he shrank from taking up his home life again 
without his wife's help. He had only visited Claydon 
in a hurried and uncomfortable way, since it had 
passed into his possession on the fatal day of Edge- 

Sir Roger, after a sharp attack of illness, was 
' most longingly expecting ' the happiness of a 
meeting. * I have not of late been used to a pen, I 
must not venture too farr, my head gives a check to 
my hand, and will give leave no further then to tell 
thee, my deare heart, that I am Thine beyond ex- 
pression.' When he hears Sir Ralph's decision, Sir 
Roger protests that it is enough to throw him into a 
fresh distemper. ' Mee thinks in these darke times,' 
he writes, ' a neerer application of friends one to 
another whould be more proper, and I am sure more 
comfortable ; but for my friend after such a tedious 
absence yet to turne his back upon us, and still to 
play the pilgrim in wandring further from us, I 
assure thee it is the subject not only of my sorrow 
but astonishment ; well I must subscribe to the 
wisest man, the eye is never sattisfied of seing. You 
are now going to see the pope, I am confident that 
the next will be the turke.' Dr. Denton writes : ' I 
rec'd yours of l -/ March 165^ which brought me the 


cold and comfortlesse newes of your beginninge your 
traveils, but when I consider God's presence is every 
where guidinge and protectinge, and that he is a God 
both of the Hills and of the valleys, and that even in 
the wildernes (whither he leads his owne) his great 
wonders he manifested to his first borne people there, 
It is a great inducement to me to encourage my selfe 
in my Lord and my God, and to beleeve that he will 
be with you in all the ways wherin you goe, and 
amonge all the people through whom you passe. I 
pray date your letters from the place you write that I 
may know which way you steere your course.' 

In January 1651 Sir Ralph went for a short 
time to Rouen and Paris, leaving Mun and Jack with 
Luce Sheppard. ' Since your departure from hence,' 
writes Mr. Cordell, ' I have been like the weather all 
sad and cloudie, and scarce able to speak in jest or 
good earnest.' Mun is clamorous in his lamentations ; 
nothing went well, he declared, when his father was 
away : he had paid the fencing-master according 
to his orders ; Prenost, who teaches him to draw, quite 
neglects his duty ; he has never worked at Sir Ralph's 
portrait since he left, he always arrives late to give 
Mun his lesson, and never stays his hour. He acknow- 
ledges his obligations to Mr. Cordell ; a year would 
not suffice to thank him for all the kindness he had 
shown him. He desires to send ' mes baise-mains ' to 
Sir Henry Newton, who was a favourite with the 
children, and often inquired of Sir Ralph, ' How doe 
my two great friends, your two little young men ? ' 
VOL. in. D 


' Monsieur et mon tres honore pere, Plust a 
Dieu qu'il vous donnast la pensee de retourner 
a Blois, les jours me semblent des anne"es tant 
il m'ennuye d'ettre icy comme dans un desert de 
solitude ; car quoy est cequi me peut desormais plaire 
dans cette ville, comment est ceque cette lumiere de 
la vie, et cette respiration de 1'air me peuvent elle 
estre agreables, puisqu'y ayant perdu cequi m'estoit 
le plus au Monde, et qu'il m'interesse plus qu'une seule 
personne dont je suis prive* de 1'honneur de sa 
presence, au reste graces a Dieu nous nous porte fort 
bien, et pourcequi est de moy je vous asseure que je 
ne manqueray jamais a mon devoir c'espourquoy 
finissant je demeure et demeureray aternellement 
* Vostre tres humble et fidel 


' Blois dimanche le 5 
' de feuvrier 1651.' 

Sir Ralph was doubting whether to take his 
eldest boy to Italy ; he cannot afford a tutor as well 
as a travelling servant, and ' a French Preceptor is 
fitter than an English and more useful ; 'tis better be 
without than take an ill one.' He thinks ' Mun is 
too young to profit by his travel, and his Body too 
thin to endure it' ; but his piteous appeals seem 
to have turned the scale. A few years later, when 
there was any question of his spending an hour with 
Mary Eure, Sir Ralph could not hope for his son's 
society ; but this heroine of a romantic chapter of 
Mun's youth was still in pinafores ; he had now all 


a schoolboy's contempt for girls, and vehemently 
objected to be left with Luce Sheppard and the 
little ones, when he had been used to the society of 
his father and his father's friends. 

So it was decided that ' the young gallant,' as Sir 
Roger called him, should go on the grand tour. Sir 
Ralph gave up his house, settled Luce and her two 
little gentlewomen in ' Chambres garnies ' at Madame 
Juselier's, sent ' poore Jack ' to Madame Testard, 
widow of the Protestant pasteur, where he was to 
board and attend classes under Luce's superintend- 
ence. Sir Ralph took his pleasures sadly, and he 
prayed the Doctor, if any accident should befall him, 
to extend all love and care to his children ' for their 
mother's sake who is now a Saint in Heaven. If I could 
possibly meete with some good friend, whose designe 
(like mine) were to seeke his Fortune in a Foreigne 
Land, it might bee a comfort and advantage to us 
both, but considering how unfortunate I have lately 
beene, in the losse of my most deare, most incom- 
parable companion, how can I thinke to meete with 
any man soe miserable as my selfe.' Cousin Gee 
eventually went with him, and fulfilled the required 
conditions very fairly; a widower, like Sir Ralph, 
he is described as given over to ' melancholy 
thoughts,' and ' in Love with Carthusian silence.' 
Mr. Gee had evidently been popular with Sir Henry 
Newton, because he had been content, when they 
met at Blois, to leave to that talkative gentleman 
the burden of the conversation. 

D 2 


Sir Ralph speaks of himself as so old and worn out 
with sorrows that we need to be reminded that at 
this time he was only 37. It does not sound as if 
the society in the coach had been very lively for 
Mun, but at 14 it is a great consolation to be treated 
as a grown-up person. 

They were joined later on by ' Mr. Cord ell and 
his company,' a party of young Englishmen to whom 
he was acting as tutor ; ' Mr. Bartie and his brother, 
Mr. Richard,' are mentioned, and a young English 
servant called Germaine. M. Duval rejoices to hear 
that Sir Ralph is to have Mr. Cordell's company, ' la 
conversation duquel adoucira en quelque sorte les 
Incommodites de votre Voyage.' 

No definite plans were made, but letters from 
England were to be addressed first : ' For Mr. Raphe 
Smith, a Monsieur Monsieur Remy, chez Monsieur 
Le Sueur Sculpteur de Roy, aux Maraiz du Temple, 
Rue de Bretagne, au Soleil levant, a Paris ' ; and 
afterwards, ' Chez Monsieur Le Sueur, Rue des grave- 
liers vis a vis de la petite Hotte ' ; then to await his 
arrival ' chez Mons r Mons r Cesar Gras, Marchand 
Bourgeois, proche le piastre a Lyon.' ' Mr. Gape's 
men, Henry Foukes and Francis Lloyd, are to send 
him the Diurnalls weekly.' 

Sir Roger Burgoyne writes to Sir Ralph in May : 
' Sir, I shall now longe to heare of a setlednesse in 
your resolutione for one place or other. I shall 
desire thee to make all the hast thou canst back 
againe, as may stand with the gravity of the father 


and the youth of the sonne, I trust that betweene you 
both you will trace it very orderly.' ' Orderly,' Sir 
Ralph was sure to be, and there is a careful list of the 
clothes that Luce Sheppard is to send after them to 
Lyons, including ' 6 Fine night capps Laced marked 
V in black silke, and 2 Fine night capps plaine,' to 
frame his lean care-worn cheeks when the majestic 
wig was taken off at night ; and ' 4 new plaine capps, 
marked V in Blew silke,' to surround Mun's fresh, 
boyish face, such as we see it yet in a picture painted 
the following year ; many elaborate shirts with lace 
and ' New Cambrick double Ruffe Cuffes, marked V 
in blew thread,' which must have been a great 
anxiety to pack ; ' 5 paires of little Holland Cuffes 
for Mun, 3 Paires of Cambrick double Boot-hose ' ; a 
large number of ' fine Holland Handkerchers Buttoned ' 
which would be puzzling to the modern nose ; ' 2 
Tufted Holland Wastcoates Lined ' ; ' 2 Dimothy 
Wastcoates ' ; '4 Face Napkins ' ; and in case of 
accidents, ' 2 old Handkerchers and 2 paires of old 
Linnen Stockings.' Later a ' Black trunke with 3 
lockes and Wooden Barres ' is packed at Lyons, to go 
on to Florence, and Sir Ralph keeps a careful list of 
its contents. There was a great deal of the heavy 
mourning which the etiquette of grief required : 
* Black cloath Doublets,' new and old ; ' Black 
Breeches and Cloake, Blacke Cloath Cape for a Cloake, 
and 2 other peeces of Blacke Cloath ; Black Hats and 
Hat-bands ; old Blacke Tafaty garters, and new Black 
ribbon roses ; and severall peeces ' of extra crape. 


Even the shades of night and the privacy of the 
bedchamber did not allow of any relaxation of woe ; 
Sir Ralph could hardly take his black bed about with 
him, but he did take ' 2 Black Taffaty night-cloathes, 
with the Black night capps, and Black comb and 
brush and two Black sweet-baggs 1 to it, and the 
Slippers of Black Velvet,' one ' Greate Fustian Dress- 
ing Wastcoate,' and ' Blacke Paper.' There were 
more coverings for the head than ever : ' 6 serge 
under-capps and 6 Browne callico under-capps,' to be 
worn by day when the wig was taken off ; and, 
besides, ' 3 plaine new night capps coarse,' and ' 30 
Fine Peaked night capps,' there are ' 2 Night Peri- 
wiggs.' The complexion is also cared for ; there is 
' Muske for powder, ciprus Powder, and a Puffe.' 
His toilet equipment includes 1 12 Tortus shell Agen- 
das, 2 gold picktooths, Hair Powder, 2 Paires new 
Barbing Larmes, sizars, and 3 Head-rubbers.' 

Sir Ralph was virtuously anxious to provide for 
repairs, as he took a ' Black Leather needle-case with 
a greate gold Bodkin, Papers of Pinns, Blew Thread, 
Shirt Buttons and old White Round Buttons, Cap- 
strings, and Tape ' ; but none of the honourable 
company seemed capable of making use of them, and 
after some months' absence from Luce's needles and 
threads, there are lamentable entries of black silk 
stockings of which only one is whole, and of ' 2 Night 
Cloathes burned, and one old one without Buttons.' 

1 ' Sweet-bag : a small silk bag filled with spices, used as a cos- 
metic ' (Halliwell's Dictionary of Archaic Words). 


There are ' 3 papers about Phisick ' ; ' Sir R. 
Hastings' plaster for a straine,' and Luce laments that 
Sir Ralph has not been able to take with him his 
' rose water, rose viniger, and elder viniger,' as most 
necessary to his comfort ' whare you intend to passe 
your winter.' There is very little jewelry : a few 
rings, 'whereof one hath 3 Diamonds like harts ' ; ' 2 
silver rings of Munn's ' ; and a ' Bundle ' of Mary's 
hair. Dr. Kirton at Florence thanks him for a gift of 
the new Paris luxury, ' the Teeth Brushes and Boxes,' 
but Sir Ralph replies that ' These are such incon- 
siderable Toyes, that I must intreate you to speake 
no more of them.' 

' Sir, 1 pray tell me,' he writes to Dr. Kirton, ' if it Oct. 1650 
bee soe dangerous as 'tis reported, to bring an Eng- 
lish Bible and a small booke or two of Devotion ; 
some tell me the bookes will not only bee forfeeted, 
but a man may bee put into very greate trouble 
about them, and that the Searchers may search our 
pockets, and doe alwais search all Trunks and cloak 
Baggs for such matters. Some say 'tis better to 
send them before, or to cause them to bee sent over 
after I am there, with an addresse to some English 
gentleman that lately come from thence, and then if 
any question bee made about them, noe body can 
suffer in it, because neither that he sent them, nor hee 
that they are addressed unto, is within theire reach ; 
I pray Sir, Bee pleased to assist and direct me in this 
businesse, and burne my letter least it should bee 
knowne, for the very discoursing of it, may make it 


more difficult, and I assure you the well ordering of 
this, will both hasten and conduce much to my con- 
tentment in the Jorney, for when I am alone, 
though I take noe pleasure in Controversies in 
matters of Religion, yet I canot well bee any where 
for such a space of time, in this sad and sorrowfull 
condition without these few Bookes which are but 
helpes to devotion.' 

In May Sir Ralph and his son are at Montpellier, 
famous for ' pure ay re and faire women,' having 
passed through Bordeaux, Toulouse, Carcassonne, 
1 and divers of the best towns in Languedoc,' ' the 
violence of the Plague and Famine ' prevented their 
intended visit to the North of Spain, and they settled 
down for some weeks at Lyons, where Sir Ralph 
provided Mun with a Latin master and devoted him- 
self to answering the great budget of business letters 
that awaited him. The Spanish army encamped near 
Turin, and the ' multitude of peasants in Savoye 
which practise the trade of bandittis, more dangerous 
to travellers then the Spaniards,' make it difficult to 
reach Milan. Sir Ralph found Toulon and the towns 
on the Rhone intolerably hot in July and August, 
but he had a horror of Switzerland, mountain scenery 
being too rude for the elegant taste of a gentleman of 
the seventeenth century. Roger North wrote of the 
soft beauty of the Lake country : ' We went through 
a plain but stony road, in the view of hideous moun- 
tains.' If this was the effect of Westmoreland, the Alps 
could only have been repulsive and terrible objects. 


Evelyn, who also left England in the winter of 
1643, and was tossed about by the same November 
storms that kept Sir Ralph and Mary so long waiting 
to cross the Channel, has left us a vivid picture of 
the discomforts of Swiss travelling. The age of 
flannel shirts and homespuns was not yet, and it 
seems an irreverence even to fancy Sir Ralph 
stumbling through ' an ocean of snow ' on a pass, 
in his Paris periwig, his ' new Cambrick double 
ruffe cuffes,' and his ' tufted Holland Wastcoate ' ; 
or laying his ' Fine peaked Nightcap ' to rest on the 
coarse sacking of the Swiss ' beds stuffed with leaves ' 
thrown down on the mud floors, ' or in cupboards so 
high from the ground that they climbed them by a 
ladder.' Nor was the coach better fitted to encounter 
' the greate cataract of mealted snow and other waters,' 
which poured down Alpine roads after a sudden 
storm, than he himself was to put up with such 
' infamous, wretched lodgings.' 

This September the echoes of the Battle of 
Worcester brought dismay to the various knots 
of English exiles abroad ; and though that stout 
Parliamentarian Sir Roger Burgoyne wrote ex- 
ultingly of ' a late and very remarkable providence 
of God in reference to our Parliament forces,' and 
' the absolute overthrow of our enemies ' ; to the 
unwarlike Sir Ralph it was a great sorrow to hear of 
more English blood being spilt by English hands. 
Sir Ralph reaches Florence in October, where he is 
delighted with ' the Duke of Florence's garden of 


Simples, his gallerie of rareities of all sorts,' and all 
the ' Miracles of art ' ; but it is ' a deare Towne for 
strangers ' ; Sienna he finds ' a cheape place to live 
in ' ; Naples ' a noble rich kingdome but a bad 
people,' the Spaniards courteous, the Italians cloudy 
and jealous. 

The new ' Turkish drink,' coffee, is just coming 
into fashion, ' 2 spoonfuls in a pint of boiling water 
boiled by a soft fire half an hour.' Sir Ralph 
prefers taking it cold. Seals and stones for rings are 
much in request at home, and ' one Col. Atkins in 
Florence, at Mr. Amies the English House, hath more 
variety es for stones with scales, then all Italy besides ' 
Dorothy Osborne tells us how the fair Sacharissa 
wears * twenty strung upon a ribbon, like the nuts 
boys play withal,' ' the oldest and oddest are most 
prized ' ; ' oreng Flowers dried for sweetbags, are also 
in request.' 

Sir Ralph spent Christmas of 1651 at Rome, and 
returned thither for four months after a visit to Naples. 
He studied Italian, in which he found it dim cult to 
converse, and both he and Mr. Cordell took much in- 
terest in Italian politics. Rome was very full ; the old 
Pope Innocent X. was occupied with building on a 
magnificent scale, entertaining Spanish and Austrian 
princes, beheading a treacherous secretary (Moscam- 
bruno) and his accomplices, and ornamenting Ponte 
Sant' Angelo with their bodies. 

Among the travellers there was a little quiet 
gossip of the kind supposed to be proper to women. 


Mr. Gee was not looked upon as a marrying man, 
but Monsieur Duval was convinced that there had 
been some tender passages between Mr. Cordell and 
Luce Sheppard. When she first announced their arri- 
val in France, she had begun her letter to Sir Ralph 
with ' Tell Mr. Cordell.' Why ' tell Mr. Cordell ' ? 
Then he had lingered on at Blois after Sir Ralph's 
departure, had been assiduous in his visits to Jack 
and the little gentlewomen ; he had left his affairs in 
Luce's hands, and found it necessary to write to her 
as many letters on business as Sir Ralph did. Old 
Monsieur Duval shook his head, and hoped in his 
flowery style that Monsieur Cordell would preserve 
so much judgment amongst the flames of love as not 
to be entirely scorched up by them. Sir Ralph 
disbelieved the report ; he assured Monsieur Duval 
that Luce's long letters were on business only ; 
that Mr. Cordell read him out parts of the let- 
ters ; and that what he did not read out was 
doubtless of the same complexion and purport a 
great deal to take for granted. Luce would not 
have been pleased with Sir Ralph could she have 
heard his vehement assertions that she possessed no 
possible attractions, and that the gentleman had 
'utterly shaken off all thoughts of the Damoiselle, 
so much apprehended by M. Duval. At last a 
rumour reaches her, and she writes to Sir Ralph 
indignantly : ' I am not maryed to Mr. Cordell, 
nether have I any intention to mary him nor any 
other, more then to my Deare littall gentillwemen ; 


and I hope you will please to beleeve mee ; nether 
can I devine how this corns about unlesse it be, 
because wee entertaine a civill corispondance one with 
the other, and if that be dangerus I cannot tell then 
how to behave my selfe in this world.' And so 
ended the poor waiting-gentlewoman's shadowy little 

Mr. Gee and Mr. Cordell agreed better with Sir 
Ralph than they sometimes did with each other ; 
and during the early part of their stay at Rome he 
wrote : ' They are now on very faire termes, but they 
reade no more mathematicall lectures togeather . . . 
if it please God to bless our company with life and 
health wee are like to returne togeather, for though 
Italy is more pleasant to bee scene then France, yet 
(to say truth) France is much better to dwell in then 
Italy.' But when it came to the point Sir Ralph 
and Mun started alone in a coach for Venice, as 
the others could not tear themselves away from Rome. 
' I hope you have Bussed the Lady of Loretto, and 
have taken a Doctorshipp at least at Padua,' writes 
Dr. Denton. We hear that the coachman returned 
much satisfied with his fee. 

The morning Sir Ralph left Rome, Mr. Cordell's 
young servant Germaine ' fell in League with a 
Violine, and resolved to follow him,' quitting ' his 
Master most unhandsomely, soe that hee gave him 
not a penny.' Sir Ralph was sorry for the boy, 
for ' though his parting was so vile and foolish 
he stole not the worth of a penny nor tooke soe 


much as the Razors and Sizars hee Trimmed withall.' 
They saw him afterwards playing in the streets, 
but he never wished to be recognised by his English 

From Venice Sir Ralph sends Mrs. Isham 
the famous Venetian drug for her family medicine 
chest. { I see by your sending of me Venice trekle,' 
she writes, ' as you thinke I stell deale in Phisicke, 
but my traviles hath binne so a boute in Inglande, 
as I have allmost forgote all Phisicke.' ' Hee that is 
most famous for Treacle,' Sir Ralph notes, ' is called 
Sig 1 " Antonio Sgobis, and keepes Shopp at the Strazzo 
or Ostridge, sopra il ponte de' Baretteri, on the right 
hand going towards St. Mark's. His price is 19 
livres (Venize money) a pound, and hee gives leaden 
potts with the Ostridge signe uppon them, and 
Papers both in Italian and Lattin to show its virtue.' 
This celebrated and incredibly nasty compound, 
traditionally composed by Nero's physician, was 
made of vipers, white wine, and opium, ' spices from 
both the Indies,' liquorice, red roses, tops of 
germander, juice of rough sloes, seeds of treacle 
mustard, tops of St. John's wort, and some twenty 
other herbs, to be mixed with honey 'triple the 
weight of all the dry species ' into an electuary. 
The recipe is given as late as 1739 in Dr. Quincy's 
' English Dispensatory,' published by Thomas Long- 
man at the Ship in Paternoster Row. Vipers are 
essential, and to get the full benefit of them ' a 
dozen vipers should be put alive into white wine.' 

The English doctor, anxious for the credit of British 

O / 

vipers, proves that Venice treacle may be made as 
well in England, ' though their country is hotter, 
and so may the more rarify the viperine juices ; . . . 
yet the Bites of our Vipers at the proper time of year, 
which is the hottest, are as efficacious and deadly as 
theirs.' But he complains that the name of Venice 
goes so far, that English people ' please themselves 
much with buying a Tin Pot, at a low Price of a 
dirty sailor . . . with directions in the Italian 
tongue, printed in London,' and that some base 
druggists ' make this wretched stuff of little else than 
the sweepings of their shops.' Sir Ralph could pride 
himself that his leaden pots contained the genuine 
horror. It was used as ' an opiate when some 
stimulus is required at the same time ' ; an overdose 
was confessedly dangerous, and even its advocates 
allowed that Venice treacle did not suit everyone, 
because forsooth ' honey disagrees with some 
particular constitutions.' Sir Ralph is also much 
taken with some ' old men's house boots,' called 
Scarfaroni, made of felt bound with leather, ' si ten- 
gono in piedi per stare caldo a scrivere ' : these cost 
8 livres a pair. He keeps the addresses of glovers, 
and of the glass shops, that he may order goods after 
his return to England. 

From Venice Sir Ralph turned his face home- 
wards, passing through Frankfort and Cologne, 
Rotterdam and Amsterdam, and reaching Ant- 
werp in September. There he met Dr. George 


Morley 1 a life long friend of the Verneys, who had 
suffered much for the King, and was now ministering 
to the ' distressed English Loyalists ' at Antwerp. 
His personal habits were such as to recommend him 
to Sir Ralph. He rose at five and went to bed at 
eleven, ' not having a fire nor his Bed warmed in 
the severest season of the year, nor did he eat more 
than once in the 24 hours.' 

If he had a weakness it was his dislike of the 
Scotch ; he wrote of the ' Originall and Eppidemicall 
sins of that Xation, I meane lying, flattering and 
boosing'; yet several loyal Scotchmen were amongst 
his friends. 

A brisk correspondence was kept up after Sir 
Ralph had gone on to Brussels, but Dr. Morley's 
long theological letters and his groans over the 
Dutch schismatics, which were so much to Sir 
Ralph's taste, would severely tax the patience of 
any modern reader. ' I woonder that Poyson should 
be so precious,' he wrote to Sir Ralph after going 
a round of the booksellers ; ' I meane that Socinian 
bookes should be sold at so intolerable a rate.' 

Sir Roger Burgoyne wrote of some of the J g]7 28 ' 
extravagances of religious fanaticism at home : 
' On Sunday last was se'night a woman in silke 
being in Whitehall at the sermon, the subject of 
the discourse being the Resurrection, shee perfectly 
stript hir selfe of all hir apparrell, and as shee cam 

1 Afterwards Dean of Christ Church, Bishop of Worcester, and 
Bishop of Winchester. 


into the world from top to toe, shee ran into the 
middle of the congregation, over against the pulpit, 
and cryed Wellcome the Resurrection, shee was taken 
out by the Souldiers and what's become of hir since 
I know not, some say it was a great peice of selfe 
denyall, but for that I shall leave you to judge of, 
this is the naked truth of the business.' 

Dr. Morley has leisure to do many commissions 
for Sir Ralph : sometimes he is getting ' a pound 
and a half of conserve of Marsh Mallows,' at another 
time some embroidery for a bed. Sir Ralph com- 
plains that there are not curtains enough for his 
large four-poster, and ' that there is noe Yallence, soe 
that 'tis really but halfe a Bed, and that but a Cam- 
pania Bed ' ; the lining, fringes, and embroidering of 
two extra curtains are to cost ' at least 30 sterling.' 
Sir Ralph made enquiries in Holland, as to where he 
could settle Mun to finish his education. Colleges 
abounded, and many of the provincial towns were 
flourishing centres of learning. Sir Ralph had a 
liking for Utrecht, remembering how much his 
brother Edmund had profited by his studies in its 
newly founded university when quartered in the 
town as a soldier ; but he thought the place too 
Popish. Besides the foreign professors, English 
exiles as tutors were a drug in the market. 
Younger sons of noble families, with infinite leisure 
and pressing pecuniary needs, were hungering for 
pupils ; clergymen of the Church of England of the 
highest academical distinction, destined in after years 


to fill her bishoprics and deaneries, were now at the 
lowest ebb of their fortunes, and with no hope of 
better days. Dr. Morley knew them all, as well as 
Heinsius, Salraasius, and other learned Dutchmen ; he 
was the very man, therefore, to recommend a college 
or a tutor. He introduced Sir Ralph to Dr. Creighton, 
another embryo bishop staying at Ghent, formerly 
known to Sir Edmund Verney. Dr. Robert Creigh- 
ton had been a fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. 
Regius Professor of Greek, Public Orator to the 
University, Chaplain to Charles I., Canon of Lin- 
coln, &c. All this Greek and philosophy, with a 
great deal of combative orthodoxy besides, were 
running to seed till Sir Ralph came to the rescue 
with the offer of a handsome salary and a big- boned, 
lazy, good-humoured English boy as a pupil. He* 
thought Dr. Creighton's demands too modest, and 
gladly named a larger sum, telling him ' that he 
would deserve that and more too ' for his care of his 
son : ' This hee seemed to take very kindly.' The 
Doctor asked fourteen days to make his preparations, 
and so the matter was settled. Learned and ex- 
cellent as he was, it does not appear that Dr. 
Creighton was very agreeable, or that Mun approved 
of the arrangement. He only wished to go back 
to England ; and, feeling very lonely and rather ill- 
used, he had no idea with how heavy a heart his 
father made the entry, the night they parted, in his 
calendar, * Munn is gon.' 

To Dr. Den ton he wrote : ' In all my life I was Sept. ?j, 



never thus alone, for when my deare Wife went over. 
I had two Children and a Family which is now 
reduced to a little (very little) Footboy ; I need not 
tell you how sad this makes mee.' 

Sir Ralph has a sharp attack of fever at 
Antwerp which depresses him extremely. His 
cousin, Robert Spencer, urges him to come on to 
Brussels, as the air is much purer. Sir Ralph 
stays several weeks at Brussels 'au Lieuve d'Or 
sur la Sablone,' and Cousin Gee joins him there. 
They are made much of by the English colony. 
The Spencers and Sir Ralph support an English 
Church service. Mr. Spencer refers to his rooms 
as ' your Pallace neare my Cottage ' ; he is choosing 
black and white Flanders lace, ordered by lady 
'friends at home : ' My Lady Lisle desires an Ebony 
Cabanet, and for Dores or none, she leaves it to 
me. ... 1 cannot meete with an Ebony Cabanet 
that's good, I can have choice of Tortus Shell, gar- 
nished out with very thin silver or guilt Brasse 
which I like much better ; . . . the best choyce is 
at Antwerp.' 

Sir Ralph is anxious to revise his will, and 
cannot do it away from all his papers. Since the last 
was made in 1643, he has lost both wife and 
daughter, and its provisions are now obsolete. ' I 
would doe some other things about my estate before 
I take any more long journeys, for I am old,' he 
writes wearily, ' and the times sickly.' He had just 
completed his fortieth year. 


There is an outburst of joy amongst his friends 
at home at the first mention of his return. He has 
his own doubts about the prudence of it, and is 
considering whether he should conceal his name or 
' lie publickly ' in lodgings. He has many offers of 
hospitality. Mr. Wakefield has 'a little Island at 
Edmonton where you may bee as private as you will 
desire and very wellcome.' Monsieur Duval is 
ready to share with him the modest rooms he is 
preparing for his wife near St. Martin's Church. 
Trusty Roger is beside himself with delight. ' I am 
now come to Lodgings in the Strand over against 
Yorke House, where if I may have the happinesse to 
see my dearest friend it will make my old legges to 
Caper, and with excess of joy be ready to transport, 
my deare heart, Thy most affectionat and humble 
sarvant.' He cannot, however, recommend the Strand. 
' It is so moist a Place ' that he thinks of removing 
into the City. Sir Ralph prefers to be in his 
old neighbourhood of Covent Garden ; he dislikes 
a boarding-house, but will not object to going to a 
cookshop for his meals. ' Oxford Kate l dresses meate 
well, but I heare Oxford John as well and cheaper.' 
Dr. Den ton, as his wife complains, neglects all his 
own business to run after his nephew's. Sir Ralph 
writes from Brussels : ' By the next I doubt not Dec. f|, 
but to tell you the very day I intend to set forwards 1652 
towards London. ... I purpose to bring noe Boy 

1 Pepys speaks of the trial of Sir Charles Sedley ' for his debauchery 
at Oxford Kate's ' (Diary, July 1, 1663), 


with me, but I must have at least one that knowes 
some service, and can doe a Message ; ... if you can 
meet with none little, take one of 16 or 17 yeares old ; 
if I like him not 'tis but losing his livery and leaving 
him behinde mee ; all servants are good at first, and 
therefore I doubt not but to bee well served for soe 
small a time. I purpose to come in a Coach from 
Dover, with our company, but you shall not know 
when it comes out of London, least you trouble your- 
self, and hinder your affaires for a complement. . . . 
Order matters soe as we may chatt a whole day, be- 
fore any other know I am in towne.' He returns 
several times to the important matter of the foot-boy : 
4 One that knows service and can doe a Message han- 
somly is of more use to me at present then any- 
thing, which I doubt noe Raw Country Boy can 
doe. ... If Sir Tho. Hewyt, Nattycock, or Aunt 
Sherard had such a Boy, I would take the liberty to 
borrow him for a moneth, which is the most I intend 
to stay in England, at this Bout; and then return 
him to them againe in his old Livery and take away 
mine. This is ordinarily done, both here and in 
France, therefore I presume it will not bee woondered 
at in England, but that you know best and must tell 
me.' He has some thoughts of bringing over the boy 
who waits upon him at Brussels, l though hee know 
noe more English then I doe Hebrew ; . . . hee is 
honest and drinkes only water.' He writes again : ' I 
love not to take a servant with a friend, for all ser- 
vants tattle. ... If my Lady Lisle's boy bee fit, 


and shee will part with him without thinking she 
doth me a favour, I shall take him, though, 'tis 
hazardous taking any from persons in authority, for 
when they are corrected, they may tell tales and 
accuse or betray a Master. . . . Court noe body 
to come to me, but if you take any, let them learne 
to order Wiggs.' 

Sir Ralph has been so long out of London that 
he is anxious not to be ' singular.' Mrs. Isham, who 
of old took a lively interest in ' the chases in Hide 
Park,' thus instructs him in the fashions : ' There 
are Pages in trunks [trunk hose] that ride behind 
the coches, but not many, I know none of your 
acquaintance that has one but Sir Arthur Haslerigg, 
and yet I never saw him behind a coch. He is in 
cloath trunks billited or garded with velvet, 1 silver 
sword, and silver buckles on his shoes, and silk 

Dr. Denton has heard of a house ' on the right 
hand going towards Russell St., with a faire dining 
Roome, little lodging chamber, and a good closet of a 
Floore, and the same againe over head, and a garret 
or two with chimnies above. The price was los. a 
Weeke, but being now better furnished 20-5. is the 
price ; the people are very good and dresse meate 
well and simply ; use only the lower Roomes for 
themselves, and have no children only one Neece. . . . 
Mrs. Bubbles' house is neare it and better furnished, 

1 Hotspur speaks of ' velvet guards and Sunday citizens,' Henry IV. 
I. act iii. scene 1. 


but she dresses noe meate.' Sir Ralph desires him 
to ' take such as are best furnished, staires lightest, the 
Roomes fairest and fewest children, and see the 
chimnies smoke not.' London lodgings have since 
grown dearer and dingier, for Dr. Denton succeeded in 
finding a fair chamber, ' which hath a partition in it, 
where your man may ly, on the first floore, with a 
very large french grey cloath bed, lined with scarlett 
sarsenett ; the next chamber over against it, and a 
light study, for 15s. p. weeke.' 

Dr. Morley has been writing to Mr. Secretary 
Nicholas about getting him a pass, and a magni- 
ficent document arrives, sealed with the Dutch lion 
rampant, and the bundle of seven arrows in his paw, 
addressed by the States -General of the United 
Netherlands to all generals, colonels, admirals, vice- 
admirals, captains, lieutenants, scouts, and common 
soldiers, on horse or on foot, by sea or by land, to 
allow Sir Ralph Verney to go on his way in peace. 
Jan. fjj, Sir Ralph writes : ' On Thursday next I begin 
my journey, and hope to be at Dunkerke the 
Mounday after, and the Paquet Boate being then 
there I hope to get a Boat Expresse at a cheaper 
rate.' Mrs. Spencer, her son Edward, and a daughter 
are to go to England under the escort of Sir Ralph 
and Cousin Gee. 

Mr. Spencer reminds Sir Ralph, 'seeing the keep- 
ing of lawes groweth againe in request,' that he must 
continue to send his Wl. a year for the support of the 
Jan. 3 7 7 , English minister : l Heere are playes and the Trai- 



neaux runne round, I see none of them but sit in the 
chimney-corner and get a nap to keep me from being 
giddy, now the world runnes round ; but I shall ever 
remaine fixed, Sir, Your most affectionate Cosen and 
humble servant, R. S.' He bitterly laments Sir 
Ralph's absence. ' To what end did you cause me to 
make my walke broader for to walke alone ? ' 

Mr. Spencer's sketches of Brussels society are 
very bright, though he was himself confined to the 
house : ' Sepulchrum meum domus mea est.' ' This 
is no contemptible place where there are playes every 
day, shooting at Papegeau, fighting with the 2 
handed swords, great Tours a la mode, the Prince of 
Conde royally feasted by many of the nobility ; 
Balles, where the Ladyes appeare in all their beauty, 
both naturall and artificiall, where the Prince of 
Conde, a curious dancer, danceth with the fairest one 
after another. But I saw nooe of these things. ... I 
was reading a treatise about the Pope's infallibility, 
and am now sufficiently satisfied that there is no such 
thing as an infallible chaire, not your Speaker's in 
England, nor the Pope's heere.' 

There are most interesting complications in the 
travelling party. ' The truth is,' writes Sir Ralph, 
1 Mrs. Spencer's eldest daughter and my companion 
in my Travells are like to couple,' but ' Mum for this.' 
In such agreeable society Mr. Gee was drawn out of 
his love of ' Carthusian silence.' Mr. Spencer thanks 
him for his great care of Mrs. Spencer during the 
voyage, and a little later a friend who had known 


him only in his unsociable moods hears with surprise 
that ' Mr. Gee has fallen the way of all flesh, and is 
married again.' Sir Ralph writes to the bride's father 

March f, from London after a Sunday wedding : ' I cannot but 
expresse some part of my joy to you, as well as them, 
for the happy conclusion of that greate worke.' 

When they return to Brussels, in June, Sir Ralph 
goes with them to Rochester ; Edward Spencer writes : 
' The pleasantnesse of the waies and the weather, and 
' the good humour of our coachman and his horses, 
brought us last night safe to Dover ; . . . my 
mother would have forced you not only hither, but 
to have tasted a sillibub, in a new sillibub pot at 
Bruxelles.' Cousin Gee writes from Dunkirk, ' Yes- 

June 16, terday about 10 of the clocke we arrived at Mardike, 

1 CEO ^ 

from whence wee were conveied in the Governor's 
Coach to this place, and as soone as we had a little filled 
the vacuum the sea had made, went to bedd, where we 
supped and slept till just now [4 in the morning], I 
rise to write this letter.' They had been fired upon 
by an English ship, and had pursued ' a Hamburger,' 
and arrived at last much worn out. 'The greate joy 
wee found here, for the declaring the King of Hun- 
gary King of the Romans, and the expense of powder 
thereby occationed had beene worth our notice, had 
we not had more considerable businesse in providing 
for our owne repose. Wee are all, both men and 
women, much your servants.' 

Mr. Robert Spencer welcomes home ' my dearest,' 
my son and daughter and ' my sonne Gee.' He tells 


Sir Ralph that he will never ' be able to answer before 
a jury of Ladies ; for if Burbon were blamed for 
throwing away his shield, what will become of you for 
forsaking your charge, your Pallace here, and Spa 
journey, &c. ? ' The Gees seem to have settled in ' the 
Pallace,' and Mr. Spencer handed over to his son- 
in-law the care of providing an English service at 
Brussels. Mr. Gee found it no easy task, and thus 
pours out his troubles to Sir Ralph : ' Wee have now 
gott a Confessor, to morrow hee beginning to preach 
and wee to censure, wee shall not bee above 2 or 3 
gathered together and I beleeve wee shall be in as 
many factions. Some or one I heare thinks preach- 
ing once a fortnight enough for those who have thus 
long rubbed out without it, another that since wee 
have soe long wanted wee can never have enough, and 
soe wee must have the precious word held out to us 
twice a Sunday and every time a new prayer both 
before and after sermon ; this is there language soe 
you may beleeve some body shortly will have cause 
to regreat his readinesse to serve.' The minister 
has been installed, and he writes again : ' Wee 
once a weeke pray and Preach, as yett without 
Disturbance, but i beleeve our Reigne will not be 
long, for by your absence wee are to seeke how to 
proportion our Minister's allowance since my L d : G : 
[Gorges] will not be drawne beyond his first offer 
and there are noe other contributors but our 
ffamily. The Preacher is for ought I heare of Life 
unblameable, and seriously preaches exceeding well, 


but he must thinke of returning if any more of his 
congregation forsake this place.' 

Mrs. Gee is devoted to her parents, and unable 
to leave them, owing to * The good gentleman's 
indisposition, and the good lady's resolve to take the 
Spa waters in her velvet bed, rather then leave him 
without any other company then a troublesome gout 
and melancholy considerations of the inconveniency 
of her absence.' Sir Ralph makes particular inquiries 
after the bride's health, and her husband writes : 'My 
wife is much your servant, but when I told her of 
your question, she looked nine waies at once, and gave 
you noe answer.' He then writes affectionately about 
her and their happy hopes. ' God blesse the Babby 
that is coming,' replied Sir Ralph. 

Mr. Spencer concludes his letter with a little joke, 
common to all Sir Ralph's friends during the next 
forty years : ' I guesse you are looking out for a 
Cornelia to governe your house, and keepe you 
warme next winter, so that you will need none of my 
woodpile, jambon, nor tongue.' Old Aunt Ursula, 
Sir Francis Verney's widow, is busy in the same 
direction. ' She is much your humble servant, 
and is providing you with a wife ; a virgine about 
30 yeares old, 1000 p. ann : in possession, 
1000 p. ann : more in reversion, all in England ; 
and 1000 per ann : more in Ireland. But she 
is a papist. ... I hope you will not be such a 
clowne, as not to take notice of it in a letter to 
her.' But, adds Dr. Denton drily, this will be 


' a motive as stronge as a Loadstone to bringe you 

1 Teach me to answer to my Catechize/ writes 
Cousin Gee. ' Quest : Is not your freind Sir Ralph 
Verney married ? 

' Answ : Wherere I goe I am posed and must bee 
soe till you informe me, nor till then will I wish you 

The object of so much solicitude replies : ' As 
yet I can answere your Worshipp's Question and 
saifly say : Your servant R. V. is not married, nor 
for ought hee knowes, (notwithstanding your good 
example) one jott nearer it, then when you left him. 
Neverthelesse hee cannot justly complaine of any 
Woeman's unkindnesse, since none did ever yet deny 
him.' For the best of all reasons, as Mrs. Gee 
reminded him, for he had never asked another 
woman to fill Mary's place in his heart and home. 




' Is the framing of young minds so mean a point of cunning ? ' 


BEFORE Sir Ralph gets back to Claydon and plunges 
into his home business a word must be said of 
the children of the family, about whom he was now 
specially concerned : his own two boys, Mun and 
Jack, their cousins Peg and Moll Eure, and his 
god-daughter Nancy Denton, ' Doctor's girl,' whom 
both these judicious men combined to pet and spoil. 

Sir Ralph was devoted to girls : his love for his 
own little daughter had been so great he had often 
thought right to ' dissemble ' lest his boys should 
regard her as his favourite ; he ceased not to mourn 
her loss, but he extended this fatherly love to his 
numerous nieces, ' she-cousins,' and god-daughters. 
He was never too busy to answer the childish letters 
they wrote him in large text hand ; and when the 
children grew up into maidens, he was still the kind 
adviser and wise confidant to whom they poured out 
the more complicated troubles of youth, and appealed 
if the older members of the family were to be coaxed 


into granting a favour, or they themselves were to be 
forgiven some girlish indiscretion. Sir Ralph was 
their humble servant, whether he was wanted to 
choose them some ' modish ' lace and ribbons, or to 
prevent an invitation being sent by their parents to 
an unwelcome suitor. Nancy, his god-daughter and 
special favourite, still continued to address him as 
' Deare Parent ' when she was herself a matron with 
a son at Oxford and a marriageable daughter. His 
relations with Margaret and Mary Eure were equally 
affectionate : they asked his advice in their difficul- 
ties, as their mother had done before them, and indeed 
still did. though she was now under the protection 
of a third husband, Captain the Honourable Philip 

While girls of all ages excited Sir Ralph's reve- 
rent admiration, and could always command his 
services, boys were a trouble and a weariness to him : 
he had never been a boy himself, and did not under- 
stand the species. He was far too good a man not 
to perform conscientiously all the graver duties of a 
father, and the intimate correspondence between him 
and his sons when they came to man's estate shows 
the solid friendship that existed between them. But 
he was over-anxious and severe ; he would come 
down upon some childish fault with a sledge-hammer 
blow which Mary's tact would have warded off ; 
and because of his desire that his eldest son should 
maintain the traditions of the family, and be a 
worthy owner of Claydon, he judged him more 


severely than his younger brother. Edmund and 
John Verney belonged to the unhappy generation 
of young Englishmen who were cut off from that 
public school and college life which has provided 
England (as Canning believed) with an uninter- 
rupted succession of men qualified for the perform- 
ance of parliamentary and other public work. 
The discipline of Eton and Winchester, the noisy 
fun of the playing-fields, the rivalries and friendships 
of Oxford and Cambridge, were all unknown to boys 
whose parents were dragging out weary years of 
exile in the provincial towns of France and the Low 
Countries, or dancing attendance on the Stuarts in 
Paris and at the Hague. Sir Ralph spared no expense 
for tutors. ' Mun's breeding costs me more than you 
imagen,' he wrote to Dr. Denton, ' and I would 
rather save it in anything then that. But at least 
one French master, Durand, turned out badly, and 
had to be dismissed ' for his Drinking and Lyeing,' 
and Sir Ralph discovered later, to his infinite 
vexation, that some of those who had been 
about the boys had neglected their proper work, 
and tried to infuse into their minds the poison of 
' Popish doctrine.' 

Edmund was not quite seven years old when he 
was taken from home. During the eighteen months 
that Mary was attending to her husband's business in 
England, he sadly missed his mother's tender care, and 
at thirteen he lost her altogether. Instead of spend- 
ing his holidays in scampering on his pony about the 


park at Clay don, in watching the decoys with the 
keeper, or hawking in ' the Great Sea Wood/ he had 
been brought up amidst the petty decorums and 
restraints of a small French town. There was some 
out-of-door life in the autumn, when the whole popu- 
lation of Blois turned out for the grape-gather- 
ing, and there was fun, not of the best kind, at the 
time of the annual fair, when the boys generally 
managed to get into mischief and domestic disgrace. 

Sir Ralph himself as a young man had never 
cared for field sports : he could ride for miles and 
miles when business demanded it, but he never 
thought of exercise for either health or pleasure. 
Cricket and football were yet unknown at our public 
schools ; but even their antique predecessors, marbles, 
hoops, and hopscotch, must have been more amusing 
than the fencing and dancing which Mun and Jack 
were so punctiliously taught. When Mun is said to 
be ' sluggish ' in his ways as a youth, and apt to 
lounge over the fire in slovenly attire, these draw- 
backs of his boyhood must not be forgotten. There 
was but little laughter in the home at Blois after 
Mary left them, unless while Sir Henry Puckering 
Kewton was on a visit. When Sir Ralph was buried 
in his letters, and Luce Sheppard was watching over 
the proprieties, it could scarcely have been seemly in 
the little house for Mun and Jack to indulge in such 
noisy games as boys love and require. 

Sir Ralph during his wife's absence had corre- 
sponded with her about his educational anxieties. 


' Mun, poore childe, is a woefull schollar, though 
neither himselfe nor Master will beleeveit.' ' Mun,' 
he writes again, ' fearing his last letter would not 
please you, the carracter beeing small, hath now writt 
againe, and expects an answere, therefore you had 
best write him word you like this, but dislike the 
other ; charge him to bee a good Boy and learne hard, 
and let him bid his sister doe soe too ; and then make 
large promises what you will bring them out of 
England. . . . Now if you like it ... I would . . . 
have Andre* come every day to teach Munn the gittarr 
and to sing to it, for the Lute is soe tedious a thing 
that I doubt (unlesse hee made it his whole businesse) 
hee would never play well ; but this hee may doe, 
and not neglect his lattin, and also learne to singe 
with it.' 

When Sir Ralph was to sup with some French 
neighbours he writes : ' They invited both the chil- 
dren very sollemly, but I had the witt to leave them 
behinde ' ; and of Jack he says : ' I would have 
him keepe good houres, rather let him fast at night 
than eate soe late.' A friend describes to Ralph how 
'Your sonn Mr. Munn,' aged eleven, ' did us the favour 
last Fryday to repeate some verses out of Virgil to 
us, which he did so well, that hee therby acquired 
honnour both to himselfe and Master. Our gentle- 
men here sayeing they never saw the like, and I am 
confident they did not dissemble.' The tutor reports : 
' II faict merveille. ... Je luy raconte une histoire 
en Francois, il me la rend (extempore) en Latin.' 


The singing, and the playing on the guitar, do not 
seem to have prospered so well, and Sir Ralph writes 
rather severely to Mun from Paris : ' I have taken 
order with the Grittarr Master to send me a fine 
Gittare for you when I send for it, but first I will see 
whether you deserve it ; . . . for if you have not 
studdied it hard in my absence, a worse shall serve 
your turne, and therefore I would not buy one till I 
have heard you sing and play.' 

Sir Ralph became a perfect oracle about the cost 
of education and board in France, even to the price of 
extras, ' their extraordinaries,' as he calls them, that 
inexperienced boarders ordered between their meals, 
1 and the fees to the Hostess ' that must be presented 
on leaving. 200/. a year was considered a proper allow- 
ance for an English youth who was to be boarded in 
a good French family : ' they will keepe him a footboy, 
and procure him an able man that shall bee his Tutor 
both in Greeke and Lattin ; and also pay for all his 
other exercises, as Mathematike, Dancing, Fencing, 
Riding, Musick, and Language Master, and finde him 
good cloathes of all sorts, gloves, ribbons, etc., and 
pocket money also in a reasonable way. . . . Bookes, 
paper, Instruments, both for Musick, and the Mathe- 
maticks, and further in case he should bee sick, they 
will provide Doctor, Apothecary, and a keeper.' 

It had been settled before Mary's death that his 
Aunt, Mrs. Sherard, 1 should send her two little girls, 
Margaret and Mary Eure, to France under the care of 

1 See vol. i. chap. xii. ' The Rich Wido.' 


Luce Sheppard.' As almost the only survivors 
of a family that had suffered severely in the 
Civil War, their mother was anxious that the 
children should have more advantages of gentle 
breeding than the distracted state of England then 
afforded. But she had another reason for sending 
them abroad. Little Mary was a sensitive and 
delicate child, suspected of having the king's evil. 
The lawful sovereign of England was a wanderer 
and an exile, and, even if he could be approached, 
they doubted whether his touch would have its full 
virtue, as he was not a duly anointed king. In these 
delicate circumstances so ardent a Royalist as Mrs. 
Sherard resolved to send over Mary to be ' touched ' 
by the young Louis XIV. ' Sweet Nephew,' she 
wrote, ' I have after A long debate with my selfe sent 
my tow gurles where I shall desier youre care of 
them that thay may be tought what is fite for them 
as y e reding of y e french tong and to singe and to 
dance and to right [spelling was not a necessary 
accomplishment] and to playe of y e gittar, if it may 
not be dangerous for them to cast them areye [awry] , 
for yt my eldist gurle is apt tow, if lewcey have not 
A great care of her. But before thay can setell to 
any thing I have desired lewcey to make meanes yt 
my youngist gurle may be towchid for y e evell 
which I dow consieve shee hath, but yt y e D r will 
give a beter jugement of when he seese her then I 
can. I have keept A strickt hand over them, soe 
I desier as lewcey may, and not to leave them at any 


time allone with, any of ther masters that teacheth 
them ther exersisis, for tow much familiaritey will 
give them tow great A boldness. If you pleas to have 
A care of this my tow jewelles you will for ever oblige 

Sir Ralph writes most kindly to Luce about the 
arrangements for Mrs. Sherard's ' tow jewelles ' : ' I 
most justly owe (and shall ever pay) their mother a 
perpetual respect for many favours, but espetially for 
her constant kindnesse and affection to my deare 
deare wife, being bound to honour all that loved her.' 
Dr. Denton's little girl was coming with them, and 
Sir Ralph asks him to tell him ' at large, what 
she may spend, what she should learne, and how 
she should bee disposed and ordered.' The child 
is to work chiefly at Latin, which is to make her 
of service to her father ' and a reproach to all 
that know her,' by which it would appear that 
English ladies had dropped the study of Latin since 
the days of Lady Jane Grey. Little Nancy Denton 
is sick when her cousins start from Rye, so she is left 
behind, to be under her father's care, and goes for 
change of air to Claydon Rectory ; but Sir Ralph 
greatly regrets it, for he had found her a home in a 
family of good position, with ' 2 very pretty well bred 
children, that would have taught Xancie more French 
in a moneth than 20 Masters would have donn in a 



Luce writes to Sir Ralph of their voyage : 
' Sir, I pray tell M r Cordell that wee cam over 

p 2 


in a sheepe, and not in a schallope. I durst not ven- 
ture the gentillwemen in a schallope, because I had 
never passed in any my selfe, the schallopes are thay 
say, the freest from robers and doe pase much this 
summer time, but the schallopes are open to all 
wheather, and I am suer most in danger of being cast 
away ; the seas are very full of pirats, yet thankes be 
to God our passage was free from all danger. . . . 
S r wee are lodged neere the rue de fournon if you 
please to direct your letters chez madam marye, dans 
le rue de petit lion, au plat degele au fourburge St. 
Jarmine, A paris : this streete goeth into the rue 

A set of books sent to Sir Ralph had been seized 
by the Custom House officers. 1 Luce Sheppard was 

1 This is Dr. Denton's list : 

' 1. A Booke of Acts of Parliament. 

2. A Pack of old Puritanas. 

8. A Vindication of the oath of Alegeanse. 

4. A Breife appollogie for non subscribers. 

5. Considerations of the present Engagement. 

6. Just re-proposalls to Humble proposalls. 

7. A disengaged surveigh of the Engagement. 

8. A case of Conscience concerning Ministers &c. 

9. Humble proposalls of Learned Devines. 

10. A discourse concerning the Engagement. 

11. The Engagement vindicated and explained. 

12. A Logicall Demonstration. 

13. Rome Ruined by Whitehall. 

14. Parliament of Ladies. [A witty and scurrilous Royalist pam- 
phlet of considerable notoriety.] 

15. An Act of Parliament concerning Bannishinge Cavileires of 
London &c. 

' These came to Dieppe about a fortnight before Easter, and were 
seized there and sent to Rouen, and the customes of Rouen say they 
sent them to the Douane at Paris.' 


bringing him out more books, physic, and miscel- 
laneous goods from his worthy uncle. 

' Deare Raph, I have sent per Luce, Hobs de Ju ? e 12 ' 
corpore politico, Judges Judged, Young clearks 
guide, The exercitation answered, 2 faire warnings 
and their answer, An Anatomic of Independencie, 
Extract of Malt, Sal Chalyb : , 6 case knives, 1 blew 
knife for Mun, 4 paire of Gray stocking, 4 paire of 
thred stocking, 2 bookes of D r Taylors in Quires, 
one is a new one, 2 bookes of Bishopp Andrewes in 
Quires, 1 Sclater on the 4th of Romans bound, and 1 
Shelton in blew pap r to teach y e boyes to write short 
hand,' an accomplishment much practised to this day 
by the Verneys of Claydon. 

Luce wishes to leave Paris because of the ' charge- 
ableness of the place,' and perhaps to go to St. Ger- 
mains. ' The children are very well, and love french 
potage, espesially Miss Margreat.' Sir Ralph makes 
use of Luce to look after a horse to be sold, and to 
see to the renewing of ' an old periwig, I long since 
sent towards Paris by an English gentleman, but hee 
sine uppon the way, sent it me back again.' Sir 
Ralph's coachman is to wait and bring it back, ' but 
Munday being Hallowday it hendered the man from 
working and by that resonne the periwige is not dri 
enought to cary.' ' Sir,' continues Luce, ' the peri- 
wige man standeth out in it, that his bargaine was 
made to give but 4 periwiges and 2 borders by the 
yeare, and that hee will give you noe more then 4 by 
the yeare, upon that contract, but nevertheless he 


will make you a very hansum one and send it you 
forthwith and a reseat for the money, and his mind 
in a leter.' 

Mrs. Sherard is anxious that her girls should be 
with Sir Ralph, but she hopes ' as Lewcy will wach 
the phirst oppertewnity for to have Mary touched.' 
Luce hears that the young French king is not 
yet ' consecrated as they call it,' so she is doubtful 
whether his touch will be effectual after all ; and ' the 
French say that there is noe other cerimoney then 
for the scicke to passe by the king, and he toucheth 
the wound and saith, I touch and God healeth.' 

Sir Ralph replies : ' Luce, I received yours dated 
16 July, but canot tell how to advis you to dispose 
of yourselfe. St. Germain's is a pleasant place and 
you may remove thether for a little, but I know 
not what Masters are there, and I doubt soe many 
English as are there, will much hinder the children in 
learning French. . . . Where ever you settle choose 
good aire, and not too neare any Water, because one 
of the children it seemes hath some swelling which 
a moist place may possibly increase.' 

The children are to be kept hard at their lessons 
as much as they be ' capabull ' of, but there are no 
masters at St. Germains, ' for when the inglish court 
is thare thay have masters from paris att a very highe 
rate, but my Lady Browne telleth mee of a place about 
a mile and hafe from paris, which is a very good aire 
and standeth close by the water side ; it is called 
Shaleau whare masters from paris will willingly goe. 


Money having ' grone very loe,' Luce started off for 
Blois. Unknown to her ' they lay in a house at 
Paris where the Measells was.' Mary first and then 
Margaret sickened at Orleans, causing a delay ' which 
was neither for their pleasure nor their profit.' 

They reach Blois at last, and Sir Ralph looks September 

, , , . , . . r . . 18, 1650 

forward to Luce s help in his housekeeping as having 
been trained by Mary. ' Luce is careful of the chil- 
dren and thrifty ' ; his ow r n maidservant, Xan Castle, 
' can doe all well, but hold her tongue, Luce shall now 
governe her, she is cleanly and makes better pottage 
then puddings.' Poor little Mary, not having been 
sufficiently pulled down by the measles, is imme- 
diately ordered to have ' an Ishue,' and ' the small 
pocks came out upon Peg Eure.' At the same time 
Sir Ralph writes : ' After dinner my deare Jack fell 
sick of fever, but by the blessing of my good God, 
hee is reasonable well recovered, and hee is not 
violent.' Dr. Denton replies : ' I am sorry to find October 
you are all soe sickly. I hope and pray for the best. 
It is more trouble to me to heare your finger akes 
there, then that your head should ake here. ... I 
am glad to heare Pegge is soe well of the small 
pocks, her mother hath another younge Captaine, and 
I have sent her word of your care and kindnes to her 

Any anxiety about his children makes Sir Ralph 
miss their mother afresh. ' The Wise man tells us 
that a Vertuous Woman is a Crowne to her 
Husband,' and that St. Paul styles ' the Woman the 


Glory of the Man, but now alas my Crowne is fallen 
from my Head, and my Glory buried in obscurity.' 
His thoughts constantly return, like doves to their 
cote, and wheel round the one face and voice shrined 
in his inmost heart. 

It is painful to have to record that Sir Ralph 
was very unsound on the subject of girls' education. 
Of his own dear little daughter he once wrote : ' Pegg 
is very backward ... I doubt not but she will be 
schollar enough for a Woeman.' In forbidding to 
girls all serious intellectual studies, he differed hope- 
lessly from Dr. Denton, who was modern enough in 
his ideas to have sat on the Council of the Girls' 
Public Day Schools Company. In a letter about 
Nancy, Sir Ralph breaks out into a ferocious pro- 
test against feminine ' Learning ' : ' Let not your 
girle learne Latin, nor Short hand ; the difficulty of 
the first may keepe her from that Vice, for soe I must 
esteeme it in a woeman ; but the easinesse of the 
other may bee a prejudice to her ; for the pride of 
taking Sermon noates, hath made multitudes of 
woemen most unfortunate.' ' D r D r teach her to live 
under obedience, and whilst she is unmarried, if she 
would learne anything, let her aske you, and after- 
wards her huband, At Home. Had St. Paul lived in 
our Times I am most confident hee would have fixt 
a Shame upon our woemen for writing (as well as for 
theire speaking) in the Church.' 

Miss Nancy had her own views which she 
scrawled in a large text-hand. ' Dearea god father, 


I now sho my boldnes unto you supposseng that 
youer goodnes is so gret that I dar to presum 
of it, but not without besegn youer parden, and 
I wold intrete you ser, to present my sarves unto 
my coussens and i know you and my coussenes wil 
out rech me in french, but i am a goeng whaar i hop 
i shal out rech you in ebri grek and laten, praeng 
you ser if i may be so bould as to desier on leter from 
you, then shuld i thing myshelf veri much bound 
unto you, ser, resteng youer veri loveng dater, ANNE 
DENTON.' Her father adds a postscript : ' I need not 
tell you this is ex puris naturalibus, and I hope it 
will give you as good content as if Nat. Hobart or 
Selden had writt it for her.' Old Selden was still 
alive, and he and Sir Ralph had many friends in 
common, notably Archbishop Usher and Sir Edward 

Sir Ralph replies with much tenderness, but he 
stands to his guns. 

To D r ' s Girle. 
* MY DEAR CHILDE, nothing but yourselfe, could July 27, 


have beene soe welcome as your letter, nor have 
surprized mee more, for I must confesse I did not 
think you had beene guilty of soe much learning as 
I see you are ; and yet it seems you rest unsatisfied 
or else you would not threaten Lattin, Greeke, and 
Hebrew too. Good sweet hart bee not soe covitous ; 
beleeve me a Bible (with y e Common prayer) and a 
good plaine cattichisme in your Mother Tongue being 


well read and practised, is well worth all the rest and 
much more sutable to your sex ; I know your Father 
thinks this false doctrine, but bee confident your 
husband will bee of my oppinion. In French you 
cannot bee too cunning 1 for that language affords 
many admirable bookes fit for you as Romances, 
Plays, Poetry, Stories of illustrious (not learned) 
Woemen, receipts for preserving, makinge creames 
and all sorts of cookeryes, ordring your gardens and 
in Breif all manner of good housewifery. If you 
please to have a little patience with yourselfe (without 
Hebrew, Greeke, or Lattin) when I goe to Paris 
againe I will send you halfe a dozen of the french 
bookes to begin your Library. In the meane time I 
know you will endeavour to understand them, and 
do me soe much right, as to beeleeve that above all 
others, I am sweet heart, your most affectionate and 
humble servant.' 

During Sir Ralph's absence Luce Sheppard sent 
him constant reports of the three children left in her 
May charge. ' M r John is very well and about 2 dayes 
scince the mesuex [Messieurs] barbies and M r Cotton 
[afterwards Sir Robert Cotton of Combermere, and 
one of ' Mistress Margaret's ' many suitors] had him 
to the comedy where thay ware very late, but the 
gentillmen very civily rendering M r John att his 
lodging, the doore being allready shut, the gentillmen 
would have had M r John gone and layen with them ; 
but hee so discreetly answared them with thankes, 

1 ' Cunning in knowledge,' Dan. i. 4. 


that hee would not lye out of his lodging for 
5 pistoles. . . . Mistress Margaret beseecheth you 
to except of her humble service with Mr. Yerney 
Mistress Mary doth the same.' ' I am now amakeing 
M r John som new clothes and thinke to make use 
of the shortest scarlet cloke. . . . Madam Juselier 
would have put us out of her house, in hopes to have 
had 2 pistoles a month for her chamber of a french 
man. but when shee saw her plote was spoiled, and May 14, 
that I had taken other lodgings, shee then imployed 
all her frinds to keepe us heare.' ' I beleeve M r John 
groweth very studious, for madam Testard telleth 
mee shee findeth him att his study in the morning in 
his bed, with 2 bookes together of laten and ffrench ; 
hee looketh tall in his brichches.' The little crooked 
legs, his only fault, as his mother used to say fondly. 
are still a trouble ; but Luce continues : : D r Testard 
would not let mee have any thing made to ware upon 
his leags, for hee saith that will but ware them more, 
and truly sir thay are not much scene now his 
stocking is wrinkeled downe over them.' In July 
Luce continues her report : ' I doe not find hee 
holdeth out his belly so much as hee did ; Madame 
Testard confarmes mee in my beleevef: truly I 
thinke shee is a good woman and is carefull of M r 
John. S r I thinke it will bee to noe purpose to make 
M r John a stufe clocke, for the summer is farre spent 
and so is his stufe sute ; and hee telleth mee that he 
doth not find his cloke which hee hath trublesume 
notwithstanding the heate.' Dr. Denton remarks 


on the report sent him of the child's health. ' Mons r 
Jean his swelled leggs and great belly looks so like 
a dropsy. It is not usuall in children ... at the 
best it argues a very weake liver. Steele is the 
thinge must doe him good.' 

Luce is devoted to her ' littell gentillwemen,' and 
anxious they should have their social rights. She 
complains that the lord Allington and his governor 
' use littell sivility whare thare was so much oblyga- 
tion,' but a few days later she reports that 'lord 
Allington hath bestowed a visit upon my littell 
gentillwemen with his governor and sum other 
english gentillmen, for thare is not any english in 
towne but have done them that respect. . . . Lord 
Allington groweth very kind ; he invited M r John to 
dine with him very earnestly, meeting him coming 
from Church 7 which honour, with the shyness of an 
English schoolboy, Mr. John emphatically declined 
' he went not, nor will not goe ! ' In August : ' M r 
John hath binne ill of the toothake and feverish, and 
was once let blud, but now thankes be to God hee is 
well againe and goeth to schoole and begineth to 
make theames ; his master liketh them very well for 
his first. Madam Testard hath bought M r John a 
dixsonary by his master's direction.' 

The accounts of Mistress Mary are delightful : she 
is never strong, and, in spite of much severe medical 
treatment, ' continueth as shee did, but is allwayes 
merry and in good humour according to custome.' In 
the Testard house the daughter has died of fever, 


' and the litell boy which was so joyly, sickened 
when his mother did and died in four days after her, 
so for the present thare is a very sad Famely.' Jack 
himself writes a letter full of heroic resolutions, 
which may be held to contain the Whole Duty 
of Boy at ten years old. He will study his books 
and take pains with his guitar ; he will never, and 
never did, spend his money in ' frute and gun- 
powder ' ; he will never play with naughty street 
boys, nor stand about at the fair when the sun is hot ; 
he will not eat cherries nor do anything else that 
Madam Testard and Mademoiselle Luce disapprove ; 
nor ever disoblige the best of fathers. Luce adds : ' As 
neere as wee can, wee will keep him from eateing any 
raw Frute, and for milke I beleeve hee eateth not 
any. . . . When hee is strong it will be very neces- 
sary to have him dance, for thare is nothing adresseth 
the body so much as that.' 

' M r John is better and begineth his excercisces Oct. 6, 
againe to writ and to designe,' but he is still kept to 
the house, and Luce has ' to give him sum money 
to divert him and to take his mind off from going to 
D r Testard's " vandang blanch " ; . . . thare is a mon- 
strous deall of wine this yeare, so they that com to 
Bloys may drinke au bonn marchee, thare is thought 
will be left grapes unvandanged ' Luce's British 
French accent is audible across the two centuries and 
a half ' to fill at the least 6 or 8 thousand poynsons.' 1 

1 Modern French pointon, English puncheon, originally a mark 
punched into a cask, then used for the cask itself. 


In July 1653 Mr. John has had the smallpox, but 
Madame Testard ' beleeves he will not be marked ; 
noe master goeth to him yet, for his eyes must 
needes be weake.' Jack has his mother's merry 
spirits ; ' he riseth in the morning by 6 a clake of 
his owne accord, and sings and danceth without 

Dec. 21, Of the girls Luce writes : ' As for Miss Margaret 

she is, Thankes be to God, a very helthy and whole- 
sum child, and in my opinion will make a hansurn 
woman; . . . she is much in esteeme with the french 
ladyes. But Miss Margaret doth not larne any exer- 
cise so soone as her sister doth ; and yet shee taketh 
as much or more paines. Miss Mary hath a very 
quicke witte, and very endustriues, and capable to 
larne any thing, and if it please God shee be perfectly 
cured, it will bee the greatest hapines that ever I had 
in this world. . . . M r John nor Miss Margreat never 
have any chilblains nether doe they ware furr gloves, 
but Miss Mary wareth furr gloves, not that shee hath 
had any chilblans this yeare one her hands att all, 
but shee hath chilblans one her feet, but noe great 
matters. . . . Sir Rich : Browne told mee when hee 
passt by, that our king had of late healed a ppasent 
[peasant] which was most desperusly roten with the 

Sir Ralph thinks of leaving Mun abroad with 
a tutor. ' I finde that Mons r Du Val would gladly 
embrace that irnployment, and (if his age bee noe 
impediment) a youth may bee happy with him. For 


though hee is noe neate, quaint 1 man, yet hee very 
well knowes what belongs to youth, both in point of 
Learning, Fashion, and Honnour ; and for History 
(especially the French) hee is very good at it. I 
confesse his Age is very considerable, for young Men 
and Old seldome agree well togeather. Yet if Sir 
Henry Newton would breed his sonn out of England 
I should bee content to place Mun with him, for I 
know the youth is much a better schollar than Mun, 
soe it might make Mun emulate to get equall with 
him. ... I pray sound Sir H. X., you may say (as 
from your selfe not mee), you thinke it might bee 
well to breed the two youths togeather. ... I shall 
not let Mun and Jack bee togeather, for besides the 
snarling and disagreement I have oft observed be- 
tweene Brothers that are soe kept in Couples, 1 know 
theire age and humours are soe different, that they 
will doe much better asunder.' 

This plan fell through. Sir Henry sent young 
Henry Xewton to Dr. Duport at Trinity College, 
Cambridge. 2 ' I wish peace in France for my chil- 
dren's sake,' Sir Ralph wrote to M. Duval, 'for 
that's the fittest place in the world to breed upp 
youth, though hee that sees my Boy Mun will never 
beeleeve it ; but you know his imperfections soe 
well, that neither my care nor the advantages of that 
civill country, can ever change his clownishness.' 

1 Quaint from coint, compt, meaning fine, spruce (Cotgrave's Dic- 
tionary, about 1660). 

2 Henry died before his father. A Latin poem still exists, addressed 
by Dr. Duport to Sir Henry Puckering Newton. 


As we have seen, he left Mun at the Hague 1 with 
Dr. Creighton, and they went on to Utrecht. The 
boy was overgrown and weak ; his ' governor ' wishes 
to consult Myen Herr Skatt (or Schott), who has 
a great reputation at Utrecht for his treatment of 
crooked children. ' If they be young/ writes Dr. 

1 These are the lists of books and music Mun took with him : 

' Septemb : 1652. A Noate of Mun's Bookes. 

Seneca's workes in Three Vollumes. Printed at Venice. 



Les Comentaires de Mons r Blaise de Mont Luc. 

Secretaire de la Cour. 

Secretaire a la mode. 

Fan Linguae Italicse. 

Le vite del L'Imperadori. 

La Relatione della corte de Roma. 

' Galateo di buone creanze, and the Translation of it into French. 
' Vocabulaire in Italien and French. 
' Camden's greeke Grammer. 
' Lucion's dialogues in Greeke. 
' Mons r Du Val's Italien Verbes. 

' Mun's Observations of all his voyage from Blois to Geneva. 
' Voiture's Letters. 
1 A Cluvdrias Geografie. 
' 2 Eng : Almanacks & Young Clerks Guide. 
' A Noate of Mun's Bookes for Musique and Designing. 
' One Musique Booke in Folio, filled upp with Italien songs by Sig r 
Archangelo at Rome. 

' One other Musick Booke (but not in Follio) filled upp also at Rome 
by Sig r Archangelo with Italien songs. 

' Five other old Musique Bookes bought at Rome. 
1 One Gittarre Booke, Printed, bought at Rome.' 

(' Brought from Blois.) 

' One Printed Booke of Chansons a dancer, made 1651. 

' One Musicke Booke Bound upp in a Parchement cover, filled upp 
by Mons r Andre. There is also at the other end of the Booke severall 
peeces for the Lute and Theorboe. 

' Three other Musique Bookes wholly filled upp by Mons r Andre. 

' One greate Paper Booke for designing filled upp by Mun.' 


Creighton, ' the sooner are they cured, and he sell- 
dome undertakes old people, becaus invetrat ills 
especiallie when they come by nature are hardlie 
removed ; yett hath he done such cures to wonder, 
upon some of 50 yeares and upward, but selldomer : 
from the craddle to the ages of 30 or 40 ar his 
patients, all sexes, ranks, qualities, and conditiones, 
and young people have beene brought to him from 
further then the uttmost parts of Shettland or the 
Orcades, even from Swedland, Denmark, Holsteyne, 
&c. And this is his way, If when he look upon 
the partie he fynd the defect curable he undertaks 
it, and w th out bargayne expects such an honest 
reward as the partie is or willing or able to bestow ; 
and trulie I could never lerne or heare but that he 
was an exceeding honest conscientious man. If he 
sees nature so defective or so much collapsed that 
it is incurable, he will not undertake it.' . . . 
* Mun's backbone in which all the fault lies, is quite Jan. 28, 

-I / O 

awry, and his right shoulder half a handfull lower 
at least then his left. Herr Skatt hath undertaken 
the cure, if your sonne will stay heere three quarters 
of a yeare ; and allreadie he is about to make har- 
nessing for him, which your sonne is very willinge, 
for ought I can perceive, to undergo, though in all 
things els he is not a little wedded to his fancie.' 

Dr. Creighton is anxious about the education of 
his own son, who will have to earn his bread. ' I March 4, 
am sorry you are not in a condition to provide l 
better for your sonne,' writes Sir Ralph : ' but if 



you thinke it any way for his advantage to bee with 
me as a Page for a yeare or two ; as soone as my 
occasions will suffer me to cross the seas againe, I 
shall take him : and whilst hee is with mee abroad 
hee shall cost you nothing : but I pray let not his 
being with mee hinder you from Looking after some 
more advantagious place for him, either with some 
good Marchant (as his Mother tells me she will) or 
otherwise, for to deale clearlely with you these bad 
times have brought mee into such a condition, that I 
can doe nothing for him but breed him, and were he 
not your sonne I would not take him. ... I shall 
desire his Mother that while hee is with her, hee 
may chiefly learne to Write, Read and cast accounts 
which are the most necessary quallities required in a 
Marchant ; when he is with me he shall Learne both 
French, & what else I conceive advantagious for him, 
doe not doubt it ; truly I thinke ye childe (as all yours 
must be) is both good natured and ingenious, & there- 
fore I doubt not you shall have comfort of him. God 
grant I may have comfort of mine thats with you.' 

Mun's ' harness ' is very irksome, especially in hot 
weather, and he complains that it galls him ; but his 
July 8, governor reports in six months' time : ' I may truly 
say the cure is allmost perfyted, yet whilst he is 
under Herr Skatt, I think it wer no wayes for his 
good to remove him. My intention was to convey 
him to Leyden for his learneing, but I now conceive 
it was God's great mercie to send us hither from the 
Hague for rectifeeing of his body ; the soule will 


(I hope) follow the better.' Edmund's own account 
in his British French is : ' Je suis extremement 
creu depuis peu, je croisque je suis aussi haut, si je 
ne suis plus haut que mon cousin Spenser.' Dr. 
Creighton writes again : ' He is very well, grows July is, 
apace, and of his crookednes so allmost wholly 
restored, that very little difference is to be seene ; 
and when his clothes and cloak is on without his 
harness none at all, yet he weares his harness for 
the most part continuallie, and must I am afrayed 
till the next spring by which tyme Herr Skatt doth 
not doubt but to make him a perfyt man : and in 
the meane tyme becaus the weather is very hott in 
these moneths, he permitts him sum tymes for a two 
or 3 dayes together ease him self of his harness, and 
go in his single doublett, which I say he condiscends 
unto meerly to ease him from wearing iron bodies 
continuallie, though they be very light, and I think 
might well be borne at all tymes, and wer farr better 
borne, then left off at any tyme till the cure be finished.' 
The discomforts which the tutor felt were so easy 
(for somebody else) to bear come out vividly in 
Mun's letters, though the boy does not complain. 
The iron body fits tightly back and front, lined 
with soft leather ; it is fastened by Herr Skatt over 
his linen shirt ; Mun can neither undo it nor ease 
any undue pressure. His shirt in hot weather is 
always wet, but he cannot change it. Once a week 
he goes with his clean shirt over his arm, to have 
the armour taken off; his shirt and the leather 

G 2 


lining are then ' as black as a chimney.' It does 
not appear that the skin was washed even at the 
weekly dressing, only that the leather lining was 
renewed ' ma peau est toute ostee de sur mon 
estomach . . . et cela m'avoit mange un trou dans ma 
chair 7 at such times Herr Skatt applies a plaster. 
Sir Ralph asks whether the shirt could not be changed 
twice a week, but Mun replies that the great man has 
more than 2000 patients men and women, boys and 
girls that he could never get through his work if 
they all came twice a week, and that many keep on 
the harness for a month together. 

The tutor continues his report : ' He growes 
apace upon my worde ; in height ther is but little 
difference betweene him and I. He loves his ease 
very well, and his owne will above all things, and 
though in truth I cannot accuse him of any vice or 
scandall, he is civill and temperat, yet he loves his 
bedd too well, and is very willfull, for the which two 
defaults I entreat you hartilie to chide him, for upon 
my worde he deserves it. For his relligione I do 
perceive you are very sollicitous, and what I told you 
befor I tell you againe, he is a true protestant, for 
ought I can perceive, for surely he understands no 
other ; and it is to me admirable, those that in your 
house of Bloy perverted him, should so ill ground 
him, for I can assure you, he is so farr from being 
able to defend any poynt of the contrary relligione. 
that he understands none, and this you may take upon 
my creditt. Ignorance of that relligione is his worst 


peste, yet ignorance and blind obedience among them 
is a great matter : and to that I beleeve his instructors 
in your house brought him, and to admire a goodlie 
outward show, and vayne pomp. And I have often 
in privat told him off it, but in vaine ; nor of this 
nor any other custome could I ever breake him in all 
my lyff, or draw him one inch from his will. All the 
morning till twelf of clock he sitts w th his brest un- 
buttoned, his breeches unclasped, his stockings untied 
about his heeles sommer and winter ; if winter he 
hovers over a fyre, if sommer sitts in a chayre so ill- 
favouredly that you wold take him for a skullion, till 
he buckle up to dinner when the clock striks twelf. 
I myself have beene oft ashamed to see, but tell him 
till doomes day, he never shall amend anything, so 
obstinat is he in what he once doth ; God mend all I 
beseech God, and bless you and yours.' 

Sir Ralph replies : ' S r I am so well acquainted 
with his tediousnesse, Lazinesse, and Slovenliness, 
and abhorre them all soe perfectly, that I must in- 
treate you to break him of them now, for next spring 
wherever I am, I intend to call him for 2 or 3 monethes 
to me, and if he doe not quit these vile qualities before 
that time, hee will deprive himselfe of a greater part 
of my affection (and soe consequently of his Fortune 
too) then hee is yet aware off or perhapps hath witt to 
apprehend.' To his son Sir Ralph writes severely : 
; Your childhood is now over, soe that you can noe 
longer be excused by it. Beeleeve me Mun I know 
your guilt and am hartily grieved to finde that no 


advice of mine (and of such as I have placed over 
you) hath heatherto had the power to make you quitt 
your Lazy, Slovenly and ungentlemanlike quallities.' 
It is doubtful whether the obstinacy of which 
Dr. Creighton complained so hotly was a monopoly 
of his pupil's. Dr. Morley, when asked by Sir Ralph 
to urge some course upon the tutor, replied oracu- 
larly, ' Dr. Creighton is a Scotchman, and you know 
they are hardly to be removed from an opinion they 
once are possessed with, though it be a bad one.' 
Mun must have been as much aggravated as Mr. 
Pepys was, by the very tone of the Doctor's voice. 
June 21, 'To church and slept all the sermon,' writes that 

1 fifi^ 

worthy, ' the Scot, to whose voice I am not to be 
reconciled, preaching.' But as Mun was the sole 
recipient of Creighton' s sermons in 1653, he had 
not Pepys' refuge of being able to sleep through 

In the meanwhile Luce Sheppard had been ' a 
careful husband ' of Sir Ralph's goods at Blois. As 
engagements multiply in England he has to give 
up his plan of returning thither, so he writes long 
letters to Luce about despatching his more valuable 
goods to Claydon, and disposing of the rest. ' I shall 
sell the old fether beds, Luce writes, ' with all the 
expedition I can ; but I feare att very low rates, 
because the tickes are old, & the fethers but hens 
and capons fethers. I will if I can sell the 2 great 
fether beds allso for thay of all your goods are sub- 
ject to wett in carryage.' She expects to get ' nine 


sols the pound for the great fether beds.' Mr. Gee 
is sending from Brussels : l Sir Ralph's 4 swords 
tyed up in browne paper 2 & 2 together : 6 chafing 
dishes & one bundle of Rootes to rubbe the teeth.' 

Jack is to travel home with Peg and Moll Eure. 
Sir Ralph wishes to make a handsome present to 
Madame Testard. ' I thinke my best looking glasse 
will bee a fit thing to give . . . tell me if it bee not 
enough, and what I had best add to it. ... I think 
'tis fit to give Monsieur Papin or his wife something 
for theire care of my goods . . . my second greate 
glasse may doe well, and my little Wooden Screene 
that goes on a screw, tell me if the foulding screene 
Frame is sould or not. . . . Take out the English 
knives from the little white wooden Box ... to 
give Madame Testard or any other and then they 
will thinke they com purposely from England for 
them. Luce gives 2 single knives one of Charing 
cross haft, the other of sceale-skme to Madame Tes- 
tard' s children . . . with a white crowne, for her 
children love money above anything.' Sir Ralph's 
' Theorboe,' and ' a new slate shuite & Cloake ' that 
he had made for himself are to be sent to Mun if 
'they may bee gotten to Brussels for about a 
Pistole ; were they at Brussels, Cozen Gee would 
send them to him for a very trifle.' 

' 2 or 3 able D rs of Physick att Paris ' are to August 

1 /* c* .> 

' consulte together about Mistresse Mary what may 
be the best way to govarn her, and D r Cosin has 
spoken to " the King " about touching her, & he is 


graciously pleased to doe her this favour.' Luce is 
advised to hurry up to Paris ; when she arrives ' his 
majesty has fallen very sicke,' so there are more 
delays. ' Clothes, lodging and diet ware ne'ere these 
excessive rates as they are art, att present ' ; the 
careful Luce will buy nothing she can possibly do 
without ; if Jack is cold he must ' ware his old 
drape de seau (soie) just a corps over his summer 
sute.' Mary was finally touched by Charles II. 
* The littell gentlewomen are both very well, only 
scicke for new clothes ' a malady which still attacks 
English and American ladies in Paris. Luce and 
' her little troope ' according to ' her Lady sheepe's 
November orders ' are expected at Dover : they are to take 

1653 . J 

seven days in a waggon from Paris to Calais, but 
they are detained a week at Abbeville, the country 
being full of soldiers, and can only proceed with a 
costly and troublesome guard. 

There are better accounts of Edmund ; he ' em- 
braces his studies with more cheerfulness and 
industry.' ' In Christmas holidays which is heere 
yet observed,' Dr. Creighton writes, ' he wold be 
loath to be pinched in his allowances. He hath now 
three Masters besids my self, who receive monethly 
pay, and they follow him close, and he talks well 
with them, and is very hartie and well in health.' 
Mun learns the lute from an Englishman, Theodore 
Berry ; natural philosophy from Monsieur Du Roy, 
' very famous in all parts for his science,' and is 
beginning Greek : he wishes to have drawing lessons, 


he has worked in charcoal, and knows something of 
painting ; his master has taught ' deux Milourds 
Anglais Spenser et Gerard.' 

Myen Herr Schott's bill is a heavy one, ' he is at Jan. 1654 
great charges in inaintayning 16 or 17 servants 
daily, and three sonnes very expert in his art, that 
do nothing but work in iron and steele, and brace 
and unbrace crooked limbs. They who have received 
benefitt by him use to present him with a goode 
peece of plate, or perhapps a round summe of monie, 
over and above his accounts ; which they do cheer - 
fullie, and he receives thankfullie, for he is noe 
unrasonable man. He hath done a notable cure on 
Mr. Yerney.' Mun wishes to be allowed a servant, 
' Herr Schott sayes it wold much conduce to the 
perfyting of his cure, for hee wold instruct this 
servant to gird and ungird him, that wheresoever 
he removes there shall never noe other help him.' 
Edmund declares he does not need a servant, be- 
cause he is helpless, 'car je suis soldat ici aux paiis 
bas, dans la compagnie du Colonel Cromwel et me 
scay servir moi mesme.' 

'For Ley den, I have no fancy to it,' writes Sir March 20, 
Kalph to the Doctor ; ' ? tis too private for a youth of 
his yeares, that must see company at convenient times 
and studdy men as well as bookes, or else his learning 
may make him rather ridiculous then esteemed. 
A meere schollar is but a woefull creature, but if you 
can approve of carrying him to the Hague my good 
friend D r Morley will be ready to put him into good 


and civill company, and advise him from his follies 
and perhapps that may worke more uppon him, then 
all that you or I can saye for I have oft observed that 
young men are apter to receave counsell from 
strangers, then such as have authority over them.' 

Mun manages to dance ' girt in his armour ; 
it was in very good company, and he was requested 
to it.' Sir Ralph enters kindly into his wish to 
go into the best society. ' As for his acquaintance 
w ch you say are noble, but expensive,' he writes to 
his tutor, ' I shall rather keep him where he is ... 
for now he is of yeares to be in company, & the best 
company is always the best cheap if wee consider 
all things. . . . Truly I had rather he should spend 
five pounds in good noble company then five pence 
among the meane & ordinary sort of people.' He 
again asks anxiously whether Mun smokes, drinks, 
or swears. 

May 1654 Dr. Creighton replies : ' I call him constantly 
every day at 8 of clock & by 9 get him readie to 
his books, at half eleven his Luteist comes, after 
which he makes readie for his ordinarie, but all the 
afternoon it is a great chance if I see him till the 
next morning at 8 ; I desired you to chide him for 
this Loss of tyme & keeping company, I could not 
accuse him of sins of Commission, No tobacconist, 
No swearer or drunkard, that I could ever fynde, 
but for omissions I am displeased. ... To the Hague 
I have no disposition for three reasons ; first the 
ayre there is not so goode, the dyett here better & 


cheaper, upon both which, ayre & dyett he thrives 
notablie, god be praised : growes lustie, tall & manly 
every day : Next our friend D r Morley is going this 
summer to Frankendal with his mistress [the Queen 
of Bohemia]. Thirdlie I have no friend there will 
trust me for one weeke's meat if I want. . . . Herr 
Schott is paid nobly as f 01 a gentleman, & it was 
well received : & I beleeve he was selldome or nev r 
more generously dealt w*V 

The relation between the tutor and his pupil 
came to an end soon after this. We get an amus- 
ing glimpse of Dr. Creighton as Dean of Wells in March 7, 
' Pepys' Diary ' : 'The great Scotchman ' was preach- 
ing at Whitehall before King Charles and the Duke 
and Duchess of York his text ' Roll yourself in the 
dust,' ' his application the most comical that ever 
I heard in my life . . . saying that it had been 
better for the poor Cavalier never to have come with 
the King into England again,' as his enemies were 
better treated in Newgate, than his friends were at 
Whitehall. By which it would appear that rolling 
in the dust was not very congenial to the Dean per- 
sonally, but his fortunes improved. 1 It is quite 
cheering to come upon a letter of his, some sixteen 
years later, in which there is quite a respectful refer- 
ence to his slovenly, self-willed pupil, and the harassed 
tutor himself, now in satin and lawn sleeves, is full of 
hospitable schemes for entertaining his clergy. Sir 
Ralph writes from London : ' Mun . . . The bispp June 16, 

1 In the Cathedral at Wells there is a handsome lectern with this 


of Bath and Wells was with me, and hee expresses 
greate kindnesses to you and me ; hee is to be con- 
secrated on Sunday ; hee wants Venison very much, 
soe I have sent for a Buck for him, which hee takes 
very kindly'; and this is the friendly letter that the 
Bishop himself writes, with a Scotchman's somewhat 
sarcastic view of the ceremonial of his consecration. 
July 20, < My noble and never to be forgotten freind, 

S r Raph Varney, I am now looking homewards, have- 
ing finished the other revolutiones of my Scales both 
great and small, as intricate to my apprehension, as 
the mystical seales in St. John's Apocalypse. And 
calling to scrutiny what I have to do, or what dutie 
I have left undone, before I went, I found your great 
favors both old and new with fresh indelible characters 
engraven in my mynd : which stirdd me up to write 
to your selfe and your thrice worthy sonne my quon- 
dam charge beyond seas, as being very sorry that I 
have lyen so long silent, from expressing those deare 
affections, which I shall ever acknowledge I ow you 
for all your singular loves, from tyme to tyme, even 
from the worst of tymes to the best, if any yett in 
these confusiones can be called but tolerable goode 
tymes. Accept then of my most humble and hartie 
thanks for all your old and new goodnesses, the favor 
of your venisone, the honor of your most kynd and 
Wellcom company, your perpetuall countenance to 

inscription: ' Dr. Robert Grey ghton, upon his returne from fifteene yeares 
exile with our soveraigne Lord Kinge Charles the 2 d , made Deane 
of Wells in the yeare 1660 gave this brazen Deske with God's Holy 
Worde thereon to the saide Cathedrall Church.' 


mee, even from the first tyme I knew your self, or 
your thrice Noble father stand and fall at Edgehill, 
under the standard Royall of England untill this day : 
And lett me assure you, you have not a servant more 
faythfull to you, or the interest of your family, or who 
should be more glade of any occasion to serve you 
and yours to the uttmost of my abilitie, then I who 
shall ever subscribe^ my self 

' Noble S r 

' Your most obliged and most affectionate 
' freind and servant 

Unhappily prosperity and venison agreed with the 
good bishop less well than the bread and water of 
adversity, and he only lived two years to enjoy his 
episcopal honours. 




' I have heard of some kind of men, that put quarrels purposely on 
others to taste their valour.' TWELFTH NIGHT. 

THE most important personage at Claydon during the 
ten years of Sir Ralph Verney's absence was William 
Roades, the steward. He and his father had worked 
on the estate, man and boy, for more than half a 
century in positions of trust. From 1610 onwards 
John Roades' handwriting, as Sir Edmund Verney's 
bailiff, occurs constantly in tithe receipts made out 
for the parson, Richard Askew, to sign, and in other 
documents . 

A legacy is left to his wife, in the will made by 
Sir Edmund in 1622, before starting to join Prince 
Charles at Madrid : ' I give unto Anne Roades, wife 
of John Roades my servant, for the care which she 
hath had in breeding my children when they were 
young, Tenne poundes.' As the children of John and 
Anne Roades were about the ages of Sir Edmund's 
elder children, Anne probably nursed her foster- 
children with her own, either at the House or in her 


home, as in the arrangement Mary Verney made for 
her baby in 1647. 1 Their intimacy as children would 
account for the familiar terms in which Sir Ralph 
and his brothers and sisters wrote in after life to 
William Roades, speaking of each other by their 
Christian names, sending their love to him and to his 
wife, and signing ' Your affectionate friend ' ; while 
Sir Edmund, hi writing to John Roades or his son, 
had signed simply ' Your master E. V.' 

When Sir Edmund made his last will in March 
1639, before starting with King Charles for the Scotch 
war, he left to John Roades, his ' faithful servant and 
bailiff at Claydon,' an annuity of 5. Roades was by 
this time a widower ; the burial of ' Anne, wife of 
John Roads,' is recorded in the Middle Claydon 
pansh register on August 20, 1636. The old man 
is still styled bailiff in 1639, but since the year l(>:2o 
his son's signature had been associated with his in the 
estate receipts, and the work of steward had gradually 
devolved on the younger and more capable man. Sir 
Edmund's detailed and careful directions sent from 
Scotland about the letting of farms, the feeding up 
of horses, and. the storing of farmyard manure are 
all to William Roades. There is a letter, written in 
the last year of Sir Edmund's life, showing his 
kind care for his old steward : ' Will Roads . . . Dec. 22, 
your father has sent to me about that ash wood, and 
the poor ould man offers to pay for it. Tell him I 
Q now, but 

Vol. ii. p. 293. 

cannot wright to him now, but that I have sent to 


you (to) lett him have that wood or any other wood 
to keepe him from coald. Trewly I am much grieved 
to see that I cannot prevaile with him, for his owne 
good, but because he understands it not and has 
foolish jealousy s in his head, I will saye noe more of 
it.' Sir Ralph notes in his calendar of ' Letters from 
Roades,' May 1, 1644, that ' John Roades died on 
Good Friday last.' That he had made but scant pro- 
April 26, vision for his old age appears from a letter of Besse 
Heath's, another old servant and annuitant ; Will 
Roades told her ' in coller ' that ' hee was not such a 
foole as his father to toyle all his life and dye a 

William Roades and his family have recently 
acquired a transatlantic reputation, as the researches 
of Mr. Henry T. Waters have brought out their con- 
nection with the ancestors of George Washington, 
the Father of the United States. 1 Mr. Waters has 
identified the original emigrants, John and Law- 
rence, as the sons of the Rev. Lawrence Washington 
ejected, as a Malignant Royalist, in 1643 from the 
living of Purleigh in Essex. The will of Andrew 
Knowling, of Tring, dated January 13, 1649-50, 
makes Lawrence Washington, second son of the 
Rector of Purleigh, his heir, leaving legacies 'to 
Amphilis Washington, my daughter in lawe (and 
mother of the said Lawrence) and unto William 

1 See the New England Historical and Genealogical Register for 
October, 1889. Boston, U.S.A 


Roades my sonne in La we,' &c., who was left 
guardian of his heir. Mr. AVaters suggested that the 
widowed mother of William Roades and Amphillis 
must have married Andrew Knowling, in which 
case Sir Edmund's old steward John Roades would 
have been the direct ancestor of George Washington. 
But the Verney letters do not bear this out. Anne 
Roades died some eight years before her husband ; 
Dr. Denton calls Andrew Knowling ' W. R.'s father 
in law,' which might still mean his stepfather ; J^ 28 ' 
but Sir Ralph, in a summary of this letter in his 
calendar, writes : ' W. Roades' wife's father is dead.' 16*50 
Amphillis therefore was not a Roades at all ; her 
maiden name has not been discovered, nor that of 
Hannah, wife of William Roades, who was probably 
Knowling's step-daughter. 

William Roades was a man of good ability, and 
had raised himself above his father's social posi- 
tion. He rented Finemore from Sir Ralph, and 
lived probably at Finemore Lodge inhabited in the 
preceding generation by Uncle Urian Verney and 
Lettice Giifard. The farm included some of the best 
land, and the most beautiful position for a house, in 
Middle Clay don parish. He is described as a ' Gentle- 
man ' in Andrew Knowling's will, when his co-trustee, 
John Dagnall of Tring, is called a yeoman, and he 
was able to give handsome marriage portions to 
his children. When the widow Amphillis Wash- 
ington died in 1655, it may well be that their uncle 
William Roades encouraged the young men to 



emigrate. He was in possession of full informa- 
tion about the American plantations, as he had 
managed Tom Verney's business in Virginia and 
Barbadoes, and had sent out several Claydon men. 
Both lads prospered in the New World, and had 
property in land and in tobacco to bequeath at their 
deaths, with kindly remembrance of the relations left 
behind in England. Strong Royalists as they were, 
they must have carried with them across the Atlantic 
stories of Claydon and of Sir Edmund Verney ; of 
their uncle Thomas, the page whose death-bed Sir 
Edmund had defended from the Spanish priests ; of 
their cousin Henry Washington, the Royalist colonel, 
and ' Governor of the ever loyal city of Worcester,' 
and whatever else would make a winter's tale for 
their children by the log-fire, about the mother 
country and the old home. 

When Mary Verney returned to Claydon in 1646 
she was fairly satisfied with the condition of the pro- 
perty, and she commended the Steward's efforts to 
defend his master's goods from the marauding pro- 
pensities of several near relations. It may be that 
' W. R.' was a good servant, but a bad master, and 
that he was hardly fit for such uncontrolled authority 
as had latterly devolved on him. His duties at 
Claydon during the absence of the owner were 
arduous and complicated. It was he who received 
the rents and sold the cattle and produce of the 
land which Sir Ralph farmed himself ; it was he who 
paid the weekly exactions of the Parliament, which 


by favour he was allowed to send up once a month. 
He had to furnish the ' portions ' to the nine younger 
members of the family, and after all these payments 
to save a scanty pittance for the poor master in exile. 
He had to hold the balance true between his many 
conflicting duties. Even Tom, though he is always 
abusing him, never casts a doubt upon his probity, 
and Henry says to Ralph, ' I confess 1 thinke a hath 
done well considderinge the times & his greate pay- 
ments in yo r absence.' 

Sir Ralph was constantly complaining that ' W. 
R.'s ' letters did not give him sufficiently precise 
information ; but then he was notoriously difficult to 
satisfy on this score ; a tenant ' might have beene 
burried & risen againe before I had knowne it. W. R. 
thinks it needless to acquainte me with anythinge.' 
Sir Ralph wrote from Rome 'that Sir Rfoo-erl February 

L J 1652 

B[urgoyne] loving hawking in my woods, sayd hee 
was sorry to see such ill husbandry there, and that 
'twas an ill signe, when ye BaylifFe did rise, and the 
Master Fall.' To check his steward's management 
he had asked both the family lawyer, ' Uncle John 
Denton,' and Frank Drake to visit the farms and in- 
spect the accounts at intervals. But as Dr. William 
Denton was at once the busiest and the most 
capable man in the family, this work, like much 
else, was gradually left to him. ' It is an ill cooke 
cannot licke his owne fingers,' writes the Doctor, 
' but lett me once finger your rents and then get 
me out againe if you can, however it is the best 

H 2 


way, for y n had better lett me have them then 
W m R.' 

The disputes between William Roades and Mr. 
and Mrs. Aris, which had been such a trouble to Mary 
Verney in 1647, blazed up again fiercely at intervals. 
Sir Ralph's friends at home justified the Rector ; 
but Sir Ralph, who naturally wished to have a 
monopoly of the abuse of his own steward, gained 
quite a fresh insight into his merits when the Rector 
complained of him. 

The Rev. John Aris (Arris, Ayris, or Aras), son 
of ' John Aris of county Gloucester pleb : ' was some 
seven years older than Sir Ralph, and like him had 
been educated at Magdalen, Oxford. He matriculated 
at seventeen, took his degree five years later, in 1628, 
and was made Vicar of Steeple Claydon ; in 1630 he 
was appointed by Sir Edmund Verney to the rectory 
of Middle Claydon. Mrs. Aris had doubtless many 
unrecorded virtues, but fame has unkindly preserved 
little else concerning her than the echo of her 
shrewish tongue. Claydon owes Mr. Aris a debt of 
gratitude for the care with which, during the twenty- 
seven years of his incumbency, he kept the parish 
registers, which had been utterly neglected before. 
.He had come to Claydon in the prosperous days of 
the family ; he had since shared in their adversity ; 
he had buried Dame Margaret Verney and Dame 
Mary, and was in much anxiety on his own account 
in the evil days that had come upon the Church. 
The country parsons of Buckinghamshire suffered 


less than some of their brethren from Puritan per- 
secution. Although Peel, the Vicar of Wickham, ' was 
absolutely the first man of all the clergy whom the 
party began to fall upon.' and William Oakeley of 
Hillesden shared the imprisonment of the Dentons 
after the siege ; only nine clergymen in the whole 
county seem to have been dispossessed. In many a 
quiet parish, where the Rector was beloved, and as far 
as possible protected, by the landowners and the 
people, the registers show an unbroken record of 
baptisms, marriages, and burials ; where the Prayer- 
book was not openly used, the prayers were partially 
repeated from memory ; and in some Bibles the 
Psalms were marked in the margin with the days of 
the month, that the same portions might be read in 
the old familiar fashion on the same days. But at 
best a parson like Mr. Aris was at the mercy of any 
malcontent who chose to give information against 
him, and the tithes were difficult to collect. Dr. 
Denton suggests that Sir Ralph might help the 
Rector in this matter. 

Sir Ralph writes : ' For his Tythes, let him com- Aug. 
pare it with his other Parish, and then tell me if 
he have reason to complaine. If a Parson (in these 
licentious times) make a quarrell for a trifle, though 
it bee his due, he may sooner conjure upp 20 froward 
spirits than allay one. By the best enquiry I can 
make noe towne in the country pays theire Tythes 
better. . . . But if you finde hee is not payd to the full 
for any churche ground I keepe in my hands, let me 


know and hee shall not loose a farthing but I love 
not to meddle with petty disputes between him & 
the tenants.' Peace was restored by Dr. Denton's 
good offices, but the Rector was not a man to let 
sleeping dogs lie. Sir Ralph writes to Dr. Denton 
Sept. fg, from Lyons : ' W. R. now writes me word, M r Aris 

1 51 J 

sent for him and after a long debate they parted very 
good friends, & remained soe about 3 months, till 
a slanderous booke appeared against him ; he tells 
me the Parson saies that after they were made 
friendes, he endeavoured to call it back againe and 
being 3 moneths before it appeared sure hee might 
have donn it ; I would know the truth, but not have 
M r Aris know I heard of it. ... W. R. desires my 

Oct. leave to vindicate himselfe.' ' Bettv is now with 
ifi^i * 

Parson Aris,' writes Sir Ralph, 'who is like to be 

sequestered ; the Parson imputes much of it to W. R. 
& to the alehouse haunters.' Doctor saw Mr. Aris' 
book by chance at Green's Norton. ' W. R. was not 
named (though p'happs hinted at) in it, but at the 
end, he printed a letter which D r thinks W. R. stormes 
at. Certainly Aris had wrong, but D r ever told him 
hee tooke the wrong way to right himselfe.' Sir 
Ralph's own verdict upon this ill-timed publication 
is characteristic : ' A Foole could not have made the 
sermon, nor would a wise man have printed it.' 

Dr. Denton writes to pacify the Steward : ' Will, 
... I understood that M r Aris is informed against, 
by some of the towne to make him a Delinquent. 
I doe beleeve there is more spite & spleene than 


truth in this businesse ; if any prejudice by any 
false accusation doe come to him, it will I feare light 
uppon Raph alsoe, for if he should be ousted of his 
livinge, the Committee in all such cases presents, and 
not the Patron, & if they should present a pryinge 
parson (as there are very few that are not) as goings 
stand, I doubt he might much prejudice Raph. . . . 
I know there have beene some differences betweene 
you, & therefore I think you are the fittest man 
to fish out the knavery of the plott and combination.' 

Sir Ralph writes from Amsterdam : ' I am sorry July 1652 
to see the Parson expresse soe much heate & rancour 
against W. R. on all occations, but all that he saies 
in this letter is uppon Hearesay. . . . For though 
W. R. will sometimes drink too much, yet I beleeve 
hee will put out other company then his owne sonne 
at such a time ; I feare some medling people Blow 
the Coales between him & the Parson, who perhapps 
is too apt to credit all reports against a man he loves 

John Roades the younger was not a man to in- 
crease the reputation of the family. ' W. R.'s son, 
I know, is noe Solomon, nor sober man & he had 
very little or noe portion with his wife ; but his 
owne Father hath certainley been very bountifull, 
for W. R. himselfe writ mee word, hee will have at 
least 4001. in his purse which is well for a beginner. 
... I am glad the Parson and his wife can lay 
nothing to my charge but a negative unkindnesse. 
. . . 'Tis true I never writ a letter to the Toune in 


general! with a formal superscription or addresse 

to W. R. that I desired the Parson should have his 
dues of all my Tenants, and that the Rate Tythes 
should be duely payed him. ... If ever I see the 
Parson (without his wife) I know wee shall bee 
friends, both before and after we speake of this 
businesse, but if his Wife bee present, I cannot 
promise myself that happinesse.' 

In August 1652, Sir Ralph hears that the Rector 
is dangerously ill with ' a scurvy swelling in his neck. 
I hope and pray for M r Aris' recovery, & should 
account his deathe a greate misfortune, but if he 
dye, charge W. R. from me, to use his wife with 
all the respect & kindnesse that can bee, and if 
shee would not staye in the Parsonage house, nor 
goe to her owne in the towne, let her bee in what 
house of mine shee pleases till her owne bee fitted for 
her, and let her want for nothing that hee can helpe 
her to of mine. And I pray by entring a caveat or 
otherwise, take care noe Pragmaticall fellow get the 
living, & put me to a suite to get him out again.' 
In October Dr. Denton writes : ' M r Aris ... is 
past the worst and walks abroade againe, & long 
may you live togeather, for if he be not very honest, 
& very much your servant mangre all disputes, I am 
very much deceaved.' 

Sir Ralph meanwhile was not easy about W. R.'s 
management of the estate, and was eager that Dr. Den- 


ton should look into it during his summer holiday. 
' You need not go to Stow, for want of roome at Hilles- 
don, for you well know Claydon is neare & big enough, 
and therefore I pray let your summer quarters be 
there. W. R. will not let you nor your company 
starve, but if you fast 'tis healthful ; and least you 
should bee idle, I have now writ to him to give an 
account to you as I formerly appointed him to do of 
Frank Drake. ... I never saw any accounts (but 
those you keepe of mine) in soe much order and yet 
I see you will cleare them farther. Oh that all were 
well, & I were with you there ! ' 

' Deare Raph,' writes Dr. Denton, ' I have beene sept. 4, 
at Claydon where I staid from Satterday to Thurs- 
day, to as little purpose as one would wish besides 
eatinge and drinking. "VV. R. had done nothing in 
order to y e stating of the accounts but did beleeve 
they were right ... at last he told me he could not 
gett them ready till Monday, soe then I thought it 
vain to stay there in expectation any loDger, & 
therefore have appointed him to briuge them to me 
hither. He & I are at as great a lose about the 
accounts, & when he was non plus'd then he would 
get home & fetch those papers to rectify it, (0 that 
he would) & went againe & againe & fetched paper 
after paper, & ne'er a one to the purpose.' Probably 
this confusion was due to the habits in which Roades 
indulged when 'he put out all other company,' at 
any rate it was past the Doctor's power to clear it up, 
and he writes in his dry vein when Sir Ralph is 


returning : ' Be sure you bringe patience for you 
have a couple of knaves to your Accomptants, that 
are resolved to try what mettle you are made of ; if 
they have not theire clowne craft to make you sitt 
downe by your losse be it right or wronge, they 
are fooles as well as knaves.' ' I will not quit you,' 
replied Sir Ralph, ' for any sollicitour in the world.' 
Will Roades himself was not altogether easy. In 
an angry moment he had said ' some scornefull 
things ' that he expected to be cashiered on his 
master's return, and that Nick Aris must succeed 
him. The sting of this lay in the fact that Nick Aris 
was the Rector's brother. 

Of all Sir Ralph's private creditors Aunt Isham 
had been the most unreasonable, but Sir Ralph hoped 
soon to be able to satisfy her better than ' by the 
Bare Bond of such a Wanderinge Fellowe,' as he had 
styled himself for many years. ' I cannot tell what 
will bee left for the subsistance of my selfe & chil- 
dren,' he wrote, after, reviewing his financial position, 
and ' to pay those annuities & other ordinary pay- 
ments issuing out of my estate ; soe that I thinking 
my Fortune more plentifull than perhapps it is, may 
possibly plung my selfe into another debt, which to 
me is not lesse torture then the supposed paines of 

On Sir Ralph's return to England at the end of 
January 1653, after nearly ten years' absence, all his 
friends and relations were clamorous to see him, and 
some months elapsed before he was able to settle 


down at Claydon after a round of visits. Many 
changes had taken place in the family : Susan and 
Edmund had both died ; the other brothers and 
sisters wrote to welcome him home after their man- 
ner. Tom was detained by very particular business 
from waiting upon his brother, being in fact in 
durance vile in the Fleet. Henry, who in middle 
life played the role of a young man as naturally as 
Sir Ralph played that of an old one, was prevented 
by an equally characteristic engagement from kissing 
his brother's hand ; ' beeinge att my Lord of Fetter- 
borough's,' 1 Henry's foible for paying court to great 
people was well known in the family, ' My noble 
Earle tells mee hee has this weeke a progress of 
pleasure to take, for 10 or 12 dayes, to visset his 
freindes ; soe that untile that bee over, hee will not 
dissmiss mee on noe pretence whatsoever, though I 
pleaded with him on this occation moddestly for my 
liberty.' Sir Ralph could wait without undue im- 
patience. Three weeks elapse, and then Henry writes 
again : ' The last weeke my Lord's Lady marcht to March 7, 
London, and his Lordship beinge left a lone, is tyred 
of the countrey, and when a puts the vote to mee, I 
saye nothing but to London, to London, for noe 
jorney can please my minde soe well ass the assu- 
rance I have to imbrace my deare Brother.' But their 
meeting seems to have been still further delayed. 

1 Henry Mordaunt, second Earl, commanded a regiment of Foot 
in the Royal Army, 1644 ; after the Restoration was Captain-General 
and Governor of Tangier, &c. ; died in 1697. 


Penelope Denton is ' in a very indigent condition : 
they say she scarce eats any flesh meat twice in 
a weeke, not for want of stomach, but of meanes 
to buy it.' Sir Ralph takes up again his old posi- 
tion of adviser and helper in all family troubles : 
he is soon trying to disentangle the complicated 
web of John Denton's debts, and tells Pen that 
their accounts have kept him up till ' neare one a 
clock ' in the morning, and that in earnest he is so 
weary and sleepy he can scarcely write. 

Margaret Elmes longs to be in London or to meet 
her brother at Claydon, ' the only plase as I have 
hopes to see you in, for nethor I know not how to 
invite you bereson [by reason] as most of my frinds 
receive soe coole a wellcorne from those as I wish the 
had not.' As Mr. Elmes had just before complained 
that his brother lodged at his bailiff' s, for fear of a 
cold reception from his wife, they were pretty well 
matched. Poor Peg, however, was full of love to her 
brother, and welcomed him, as she says, ' in this silent 
language ' by making him a cake for his ' breckfaste.' 
Her cousin Knightly had been urging Mr. Elmes 
to give her a fixed allowance for her clothes. ' Mr. 
Elmes seemed to him as he was willing it showlde be 
soe, but he frumped att me all the day after for it, 
but soe I get it I care not for that. ... I coulde 
not thancke my cosen, Mr. Elmes being bie. . . . 
I should hardly take under 40/. a yere, as much 
a bove as he will. I am seartin nevor to have a 
furthing moare from him in the way of gift as other 


men doe to theare wife. ... I am exstremely owght 
of all kinde of linin under thinges as you cannot 
immaien, & by Mickellmas I should want gownes 
as much, for I shall not have one to put on, soe as all 
that I showlde receive then wolde not clothe me, and 
if I run behind hand att the furst, I shall nevor get 
befoare againe. Now pray stand for as much as you 
can for me.' 

It must have been a relief to Sir Ralph to turn 
from Pen's poverty and Peg's quarrels to the domestic 
happiness of his sister Gary. He had left her, amidst 
all the anxieties of the Civil War : her infant son 
Thomas died at Claydon in December 1644 ; her 
husband Sir Thomas Gardiner was killed the follow- 
ing summer, and her daughter Margaret, born after 
his death, developed a weakness in her eyes, which 
was a life-long trial to her and to her mother. Her 
troubles were much aggravated by the unkindness 
and neglect of her husband's family, but in 1653 
Gary was no longer lonely and defenceless. Though 
retaining her old name, Lady Gardiner had married 
John Stewkeley of Preshaw in Hampshire, a younger 
son with a comfortable income. He was a widower 
older than herself, with daughters Margaret, Anne, 
and Ursula who were growing up to womanhood, 
and a boy William, now aged thirteen. He was a man 
of kind heart and good education, fond and proud 
of his wife, and very kind to her delicate little 
girl. Gary proved herself a good-natured step- 
mother to his children and a capable and genial 


mistress of his house. She was much excited by her 
brother's return : she longed for him to see her 
husband and her own baby boy John, and wanted to 
rush up to London, even, as she expressed it, ' to the 
prodigy of my helth, which I enjoy lettill of.' As 
this could not be, she was bent upon having a family 
gathering at Preshaw ; Moll and Betty, who often 
stayed with her, should meet their brother there. ' I 
am shur Harry Yerney will waight on you highther 
to,' and 'my husband would be joyed to give you 
his first salute.' 

Gary wishes to include sister Peg in her exuberant 
hospitality ; but as Peg knows that for her to ask 
her husband is to be refused, Sir Ralph is entrusted 
with the negotiation. Mercifully Brother Elmes is 
just ' about making a voyage into Walles to visit a 
sister ' ; he implies that his wife means to go to 
Preshaw with or without his leave. ' But this I 
shall say shee carieth herself so bigg to mee, & is 
of so extreame a ruling spiritt, that for my part I 
shall not endure it any longer than my discretion 
forceth mee, which will not bee long,' and then 
raking up his old quarrel with Tom he concludes : 
' I desire to bee looked upon as one that hath been 
much ill used by a brother and sister of yours, but 
for your owne particular I have no reason but I 
may stile myself your brother in Law and humble 
servant.' Peg gets her visit, but ' shee will goe 
to purgitury when she goes home, God helpe her.' 

Both Sir Ralph's younger sisters had grown into 


womanhood since his departure. Mary has no settled 
home, and is in delicate health. In flowery terms 
she assures him that the news of his safe return ' hath 
afoarded . . . me balme to heale me againe. ' I shalle 
thinke everryday a eare tell wee meete ; I will not 
hinder you from your more sceareous Imployments 
any longer . . . your reall Afeckestionat sister and 
sarvant, MARY VERNE Y.' A letter was to Betty, as 
to Moll, an arduous effort. She was scarcely ten 
years old when her brother left England. He had 
spent much upon her schooling, but at nineteen she 
does not seem able to spell her own name. 'DEAKE 
BROTHER, Yesterday came the weall comen nuse to 
mee that I could desire to heare of, which wos of 
your safe Arivall to Ingland, & now I have hope 
for to bee made hapy in knowing on. how I can scars 
remember, the fas of, yet I doo acknowleg you to have 
bin a father to mee, & wish it ware in my power to 
macke retribution but that I am able to doo in nothing 


but in the extrem loving of you & yours, in wich I 
shall never fail in Your afecnate sister E. VEARNEY/ 

The old Countess of Devonshire, Lady Warwick's Feb. 13, 
mother, left Sir Edmund a legacy which her son, 
Edward Wortley, sends to Sir Ralph. He is ' de- 
sirous to put the Legacye your noble mother left 
my Father into a Peece of Plate, and if you please to 
let mee know her Armes that I may engrave them on 
it, I shall take it for a double favour.' 

Sir Richard Browne, now a disconsolate widower, March 7, 

1 / - o 

writes from Brest : ' Sir, your most obleginge letter 


hath, found mee here in a remote corner of the world, 
to which my disasters have for a time confined mee, 
& where it is noe small consolation to mee to see that 
I yet live in the Memory of such worthy freinds as 
yourselfe in whose more happy condition & sepatria- 
tion I take particular contentment, as one that really 
wisheth you as different & contrary a fortune to my 
owne, as may be.' 

Sir Ralph's preparations to set up house again at 
Claydon give us a very complete picture of his house- 
hold and housekeeping. He had written to Dr. 
Denton before reaching England. ' If I must keepe 
house which I am willing to doe if you advise it, I 
will keepe but one woeman kind, who must wash 
my small Linnen (bed & board linnen shall bee put 
out) and cleane all both house & Vessell which she 
may doe for I supp not : if she could cooke also I 
should not bee sorry, and for men I intend to keepe 
only a Coachman & 2 footmen ; or a Vallet de 
chambre & one footman ; or which I like much better 
a Page & a Footman, but if persons of my condition 
keepe not pages in England I will not bee singuler, 
though they are used both heere and in France, & by 
reason they ride behind the coach, not in it, are better 
than any Vallet de chambre. If I keepe any other 
meniall servant, I thinke twill bee a young Cooke, 
since Besse Heath & her husband have noe children. 
I shall not scruple at their being married : but 
imploy them at Claydon if they desire it ; but I shall 
not sue to them, nor can hee bee usefull to me at 


London (for there wants neither Bakers nor Brewers) 
but at Claydon, hee may for both & also take care of 
my stuff, for he knowes it, & how to order it better 
then his wife, my mother bredd him to it, but I 
caiiot keepe them all y e yeare, because I am like to 
bee 3 or 4 months in a yeare at Claydon, & that only 
by fits & spurts.' His mother's housekeeper, Mrs. 
Alcock, who married ' an ordinary grazier,' had con- 
tinued to live at Claydon, and farmed the grass-land 
round the house. 

' Tell me what Family M rs Alcock hath in my May less 
house, what Napkins, Table Cloathes, Sheetes & Pil- 
lowbeeres ; what store of Beds she can make both 
~for Masters & for Servants, with Blankets & cover- 
lets, and how many of them will have curtains ; 
also what silver spoones and salts she can lend me. I 
presume there are dishes, pyplates, candlesticks, 
Basons, Wooden Trenchers, Beere & Wine glasses, 
greate & small candles, spitts & such like matters 
of my owne in the house already. . . . Tell me what 
scollop dishes there are at Claydon for Frute. . . . Tell 
me the prices of Beefe, Mouton, Veale, Lambe, Rab- 
bets, Pidgions & Poultry ; Butter & green-morning- 
milke cheeze.' 

Sir Ralph's larder was evidently well stocked ; 
he has also a variety of game in the autumn : his 
pheasants and partridges are said to be a worthy 
' present for my Lord Maier, for hee hath noe such 
ware in his shoppes ' in London. The garden 
is to ' bee planted with ordinary usefull herbes, if 



there is noe Borrage nor Burnet, plant or set it 
quickly.' Luce Sheppard is buying French shrubs 
and vegetables. ' I pray forget not to bring the seeds 
of Philloray vulgaire that I sent for in my last, I be- 
leeve they are very cofhon and cheap, but if you find 
them otherwise bring but a pint, but I would bee glad 
of two or three quarts on reasonable termes, bring over 
some five or six souls (sous) worth of Cardon 
d'Espaigne y e best & ffairest comes from Tours, 
also some good Mellon & seeds of Roman Lettuce, 
Lettuce Frize [curled], Chou de Millan, Chou frize, 
bestow about 30 or 40 sols on all these seeds and 
such others as you think fit beside what you pay for 
the seeds of the Philloray. ... I also desire any 
sorts of eateable grapes out of the best & choycest 
gardens ; give the gardener what you thinke fit, a 
few of them will serve my turn ... in my old garden 
there was woont to bee good Eateing grapes of 
several! sorts.' 

He continues his directions to Roades : i Tell me 
if the Locks & Glasse windowes are in order, if 
not glaze the Parlour & my Studdy by it, the 
Dining Roome & Best Chamber : tell me if the 
Water pipes are in order, & let the cisterne be 
clenged. Repaire the chickin house next the slaugh- 
ter house quickly as you & I agreed, that I may not 
bee troubled with Workmen when I come. Tell me 
if the grate is upp in the Kitchin Chimney, & what 
Wood, Seacoales, & Charcoales, you have ready for 
me ... Tell me if there bee not white sillibub pots in 


the house. If M rs Alcock cannot brew Ale, a brewer 
must, 6 Barrels for my table and the Hall, strong, 
will not be stale enough in time, I doe it for any of 
my Tenants that may come to me, tis cheaper then 
Wine and will please them better . . . make them wel- 
come, & being they have nothing but Bread, Cheeze 
& Drinke it must be good & in plenty too, or else, 
they may justly blame both you & mee.' 

For his own table he sends down ' in a Browne 
Hamper 2 dozen of stone Bottles with White Wine. 
They are all sealed with Black Wax, & by one 
Scale, I pray observe if the Scales are whole, & set 
them into sand in the Wine cellar by themselves, & 
sometimes cast Water (that's well salted) upon the 
sand. Six stone bottles ' of Vergus, Yinaigre, and 
Inke,' follow later in 'a greate hamper,' to be put in 
the cellar but not in sand. ' I hope you have few 
chickins, & other poultry to bee a little fleshed, 
before I come, or else they will not bee to bee eaten at 
present.' Roades is also to get 'some young Turkies, 
though they are noe bigger then a chicking of 6 pence, 
or 8 pence price.' 

Sir Ralph sends down a new cook, but is afraid 
that ' Idlenesse may spoyle him,' so the Steward is to 
exhort him to use his leisure in learning to read and 
write, and in baking French bread in the great 
' Brasse Baking Pans/ The cook greatly prefers the 
making of hare pies to literary pursuits ; ' hee is 
wilde to get a gunn ' to shoot the hares ; but Sir 
Ralph will not have the hares shot, or his game 

i 2 


disturbed in May. He is anxious to know how the 
cook ' carries himselfe,' and whether Mrs. Alcock 
approves of him. ' I shall suffer noe man that's 
either debauch or unruly in my house, nor doe I hier 
any servant that takes tobacco, for it not only stinks 
upp my house, but is an ill example to the rest of 
my Family.' Michel or Michaud Durand, ' the very 
little foot-boy,' who was with Sir Ralph in Brussels, 
has gone to Blois to learn how to make pastry and 
good French fancy bread, and is to return to Claydon 
when he is perfected. Sir Ralph desires Roades to 
' tast the Vinaigre, & if it bee not very good let me 
presently know it, & I will send downe some. . . . 
Questionlesse there is White Wheat, enough about 
Wendover & Missenden, any Baker will tell you 
& if there be, write to any discreete honest man 
there of your acquaintance to buy you half a quarter 
of the Best & Whitest to make Bread ; when any 
cartes come upp from Claydon, they will carry home 
for a small matter, & that will bee cheaper then to 
send a Horse & man purposely.' 

Sir Ralph, alive to the importance of a good water 
supply, thanks Mr. Abell of East Claydon for his 
courtesy in letting him bring down water from a 
Spring which has supplied Claydon House ever since. 
' Perhapps M r Sergeant at Brill can take the height of 
it with a Water Levell, & my owne (Spring) too, & 
I hope they goe high enough to come into the Leaden 
Cesterne in the Water House, as it now stands, without 
any forceing of them upp. Tast & smell the Water 


of that Spring & of my owne too that's neare it, & 
try if either of them will beare soape ; but doe it 
privately.' Coals were selling in London at 27-9. a 
chaldron, having just fallen from 33-9. After this they 
had to be carted down to Claydon. Sir Ralph is 
assured that he may ' buy Wood cheaper than coales 
at these rates, considering the carriages.' The Clay- 
don woods supplied many villages with fuel. In 
the autumn of 1650, when there had been no sale at 
Claydon for two years, the poor were up in arms : all 
the hedges were pulled down, and they would ' not be 
kept out ' : ' The country wants wood, for all their old 
stock is gone.' So Sir Ralph authorises a great 
clearing in Muxwell Wood, ' where there is at least 
three yeares sale.' The fire-wood yields from 41. to 
10/. an acre, according to the season generally 71. 
to 81. 

There is a most interesting list of eleven cottages 
in the 'towne of Middle Claydon,' showing how many 
' cowes commoning belonges to each,' making a total 
of twenty-one cows kept by eleven families. But 
now, after two centuries and a half of progress, 
not a single cottager in Middle Claydon keeps a 
cow, and the common has entirely disappeared. 
The rents of the cottages appear to have been 16s., 
18. 4e?., and 30s. a year, William Tomkins writes to 
the Steward about an apprentice from Claydon : 
' Mr. Rhodes, my love remembered unto you, J ^7 28 > 

J. U '_) 5 

Sir, I would desire you to be mindfull of me con- 
serning a prentise. I shall not take one under sixtine 


or twentie poundes, I shall indevor to teach him rny 
two profetions which I use. Thus leaveing you to 
the Allmightie I remaine your Frend to command, 
WILLIAM TOMKINS.' Unhappily we do not know 
what Tomkins' ' two profetions ' were. The fee 
sounds high, as Evelyn the next year bound his 
' laquay Tho : Headley, to a carpenter, giving with 
him five pounds and new clothing : he thrived very 
well & became rich.' 

Sir Ralph warmly thanks Lady Gawdy ' for her 
extraordinary charity to my man Mathew ; certainly 
though her Balsome did him much good, her care 
added more to his cure.' Mathew retained a grate* 
ful recollection of Lady Gawdy 's nursing, and 
with Sir Ralph's approval he entered her service 
later as butler, to her great comfort. We hear of 
him once more in 1662, when Doll Leeke writes 
from Croweshall : ' Your servant Mathew goes 
with my lord pellou into larland, my lady Desmond 
pressed Sir Charls very much, for he beleves it a 
preferment, and upon that acount perted with 
hun.' There are many evidences of Sir Ralph's 
personal knowledge of the farmers and their fami- 
lies, and of his kindly interest in them and in the 

If his labour bill has to be diminished he 
knows exactly which of the wain-men are the least 
valuable : ; 'Tis better to put off young Harding, for 
hee hath the least skill, and Gutteredg, for hee is 
most peremptory and Dogged.' Gutteredge was, 


however, taken on again, and is planting mulberry 
trees in the garden in 1664. 

The Parson at Wasing is to be complained of to Feb. 3, 
the Justices for having brought in an outsider. 
' Take the overseers of the Poore with you,' 
writes Sir Ralph to Roades, ' and let them Tax 
the Parson at 5 shillings a weeke (over and above 
what hee should otherwise bee taxed to the Poore) 
& get the Justices to confirme theire Tax & then 
let it bee weekly levied by Distresse (if the Parson 
refuse to pay it) & let this five shillings a weeke 
be kept for raysing of a Stock to discharge the Parish 
of all charges that may happen to them, by reason of 
this Inmate or his Wife or Children. . . . For if the 
Parson will bring needless burthens on the Towne, 
the Towne shall make his Purse smart for it all the 
wayes they can.' 

A tenant farmer had pleaded for more time to 
pay his rent, but when he was heavily in arrears 
he disappeared one summer morning with his stock. 
' Collins cannot carry away 68 sheepe & 12 cowes J "? e 18 > 
soe as not to be found,' wrote Sir Ralph to his 
steward ; ' for if he went away on Satterday he durst 
not drive them on Sunday ; ask Mr. Busby if I may 
not send hue & cry after him & the cattle, for 
since he played the knave soe grossly, when hee was 
soe well used, make him an example ; . . . never trust 
any tenant soe much hereafter ; but let them all 
know, if they cleare not all arrears before the next 
halfe yeares day that shall follow, you will not trust 


them with theire cattle, but sell them at the best rates 
you can, for forbearing of Tenants, you see, tempts 
them to bee knaves.' 

1655 19 ' ^* r R a lp n wr it es to one of his own creditors, 

Richard Curtis : ' You shall have interest to a far- 
thing, but when I call for Rent, my Tenants protest 
they cann make nothing either of their cheeze or 
cattle, & I know 'tis too true, & corne is also att 
so low a Rate, that I know not what wee shall doe.' 
' Land goes off in most parts of England, soe 
neare London for 20 or at least for 19 yeares pur- 
Jan. 1654 chase,' wrote Sir Ralph concerning his own estate, 
' yet I would be content to take 18 years purchase 
for it, rather then pay interest still.' 

Besides the small farmers and the labourers in 
regular work owning cows, there were a number of 
destitute people who were much on Sir Ralph's mind 
in his long lonely evenings abroad. At Christmas 
tune 1648 he wrote: 'I am told that Clay don is 
poorer than ever, & that the poor want work.' He 
Mar. 1651 wr ites to Roades : ' About 2 yeares agon you writ 
me word, there was non at Claydon that asked almes 
at any man's Dore, either within the Towne or with- 
out. Tell me if there is any that doe it now and 
who they are; . . . also name how many receive 
weekly or monthly assistance from the Towne, & 
what the Towne allowes them.' He wrote a careful 
memorandum on ' How to relieve Claydon Poore ' in 
January 1652; those 'which receive noe Almes, are 
perhapps,' he says, ' fitter objects of charity than the 


Beggars.' He desires Roades to confer with their 
richer neighbours about the apportionment of labour, 
' so that all men that can work, want work, and are 
without work, shall be given work according to theire 
abilities.' He helps the young people to start in life 
by paying apprentice fees or by finding them places ; 
he is willing to pay for the board of a poor little 
village child whom no one will own ; ' but then 
security must be taken to keepe it like a Christian.' 
He will give immediate help to the most destitute ; 
6d. a week to ' old Newman ... & to Andrewes & 
his wife 3d. a weeke a peece, from mee towards their 
present subsistence ' ; but he longs to see some- 
thing done for the aged poor more permanent and 
more business-like than this uncertain almsgiving. 
He desires Roades to think over a scheme which 
he might start at ' some considerable charge ' if the 
Towne [village] would keep it going by a common 
rate of which he would bear his full share. His own 
plan would now be called a co-operative cow club ; 
the cows are to be bought by subscription, and to 
remain the property of the club (the club at first 
being Sir Ralph), the men to pay for the cow-run 
and to have the produce of the cow, and taking more 
cows as they can afford it. He would introduce a 
good breed of cows at Claydon, as those belonging to 
the poor were ' old and naught. & dry many months 
in the yeare.' 

But this scheme proved to be full of difficulties : 
we hear much of local jealousies, and the cows 


themselves did not rise equal to the occasion. 
1652 18> 'Whereas I formerly desired to provide Cowes 
for the Poore of Claydon of which they might have 
the milke, "W. R. thinks that noe fit way for them, 
for the poorest are old & cannot doe that businesse. 
Besides that very cow that was this yeare worth 5 
pounds at May Day, was not worth above 50 shillings 
at Michelmas, which would bee a greate losse to me 
& but halfe a yeares profit to them. Therefore twere 
better to give the poorest of them that cannot labour 
a weekly portion of Bread & meate, & soe doe it to 
more or lesse as I see cause.' Two hundred faggots 
are to be divided at Christmas among John Lea, 
Widow Croton, Kan Heath, and Judye May. 

Two pious tasks filled his mind on returning to 
his old home to build almshouses for the poor and 
to erect a monument to the memory of his dead. 

The Washingtons in the days of their prosperity 
at Sulgrave had set apart some cottages for the use 
of ' honest, aged, or impotent persons . . . without 
paying any rent therefore, other than one red rose at 
the feast of St. John Baptist yearly.' Sir Ralph ex- 
acted no such poetic rent, but he took care that the 
old men and women should have good gardens, and 
they were to be stocked with fruit trees from the 
'Setts' in his own orchard. The elm-tree walk which 
Sir Ralph planned for the inmates has disappeared : 
the high road now runs close up to the cottage doors ; 
the only compensation that the civilisation of the 
nineteenth century has provided for the old people 


who have lost their green alley is a red letter-box in 
the opposite wall. 1 

The monument had been in Sir Ralph's thoughts 
ever since his wife's death : even before her body 
could reach Claydon he had written to Dr. Denton 
about it. ' Measure the Breadth of y e chancel! & Au ?:- 

J 1050 

marke the place where y e Body lies, and at your 
returne describe it to a Toombemaker & send me 2 or 
3 draughts on paper drawne Black & White, or in 
Colours as it will bee, that I may see which Toombe 
I like best ; & because my deare Mother & halfe my 
children are there. They and if you thinke fit my 
selfe, & 2 Boyes (not forgetting poore Pegg that 
went to Heaven from Hence) may bee added also, & 

1 Sir Ralph's memorandum is as follows : 

' Every Roome is 15 Foot long, and 13 Foote broad within. 

'And 8 Foote high from y e Floore to the Wallplate, and from 
yt to the side peece, tis sloped and plastered lik y e Roofe of a 

' The Chimney is 4 Foote broad, & 4 Foote high within and placed 
right in y e Middle of y e Roome, between the streete Door and y e 
Garden doore, which doors are 2 foote 2 inches broad & five foote & 
halfe high. 

' The Window is 2 paines of Glasse (without a casement), each 
paine being 2 Foote and halfe high and 15 inches broad. 

' The garden is as broad as theire House, & 40 Foot long, with 
a privy at the end, & the side separations, and Lathes 4 Foote 

' One pumpe in y e ally before the dore serves all. 

* The Walke without the Wall is rayled in, & full 5 Foote broad, 
& a Row of Elmes planted in it. 

' The Wall is 2 Bricks thick from y e ground to the Water Table, 
and from thence to the Wall plate 1 Brick & halfe Thick. 

' The Peeces of Timber that goe through the chimnies from Wall 
plate to Wallplate are about 4 inches thick, and 6 inches Broad.' 


if my Father could well bee brought in it would bee 
very well. As for y e price, if the designe please me, 
wee shall not easily differ for a little money. Set y e 
price uppon every draught. Black & white Marble, 
or all Black, or all White Marble I thinke is better 
than coloured Marbles. Tell mee what is best to bee 
donn. I meane whether to have soe many in the 
Tombe, or only a single statue of her alone whose 
memory is soe precious unto mee, that I desire to 
consecrate it to posterity by all immaginable waies & 
meanes within my power.' 

Monsieur Duval is lodging ' in one of the best 
stonecutter's houses in London,' and he superintends 
the work under Dr. Denton. ' Now for a Tombe, 
Sept. 23, y e chancell being little,' Sir Ralph writes, ' I was 
thinking to make an Arch like this (H) of Touch 
[Black Granite] or Black Marble ; within the whole 
Arch shall bee black, & her statue in White 
Marble in a Winding sheet with her hands lift upp 
set uppon an Urne or Pedestall uppon which or on 
y e edge of y e Arch may bee what Armes or Inscrip- 
tions shall bee thought fit. I was thinking to make 
a double Arch like this f^^) and in it to set upp 
her statue, & only leave a Pedestall for mine, for 
my sonn to set upp, if hee thinke fit, but I doubt this 
would bee thought vanity, being there is non for my 
Father & Mother, but if it please god to give me life 
& my estate, I will set up a tombe for them. I 
know Mr. Write about Charing crosse did make one 
in this manner, with a greate Childe of White Marble 

J illntniii( nrercrf/f' GyCJtr ^/\M 



between the 2 stones of Touch, & all armes & 
Inscriptions & the Drapery of the 2 marble statues 
very well & artificially cut ; hee had 801. for it, but 
then he carried it 80 or 100 miles, & set it upp 
there at his charge ; others have had it donn for 50/., 
but perhaps not so well cut. . . . See D r Dunns & the 
other Tombes at Paul's or Westminster or elsewhere 
before you speake with the Workmen.' 

It is appalling to think what the monument might 
have been if Dean Donne's tomb in St. Paul's had 
been taken as a model. Before his death, in 1631, 
Donne dressed himself in his graveclothes, and sat 
for his own effigy, which looked like a great white 
owl with folded wings and a very reverend expression, 
perched upon a funeral urn. 

Sketches come to him from London and are re- 
vised at Rome ; others are sent from Rome, where the 
busts were probably executed. 'The man that should March 
draw the designe of the Tombe is so imployed by the 
Pope's Oificers about Shewes for Easter ' that Sir 
Ralph's order is laid aside ; the decorative part of the 
work is to have no ' figures of Men, Birds or beasts.' 
' Black & Coloured marble cost 10s. the foot, white 
marble costs 16s. & alabaster Is. the foot,' brought in 
Dutch ships. 

The monument after all the time and thought 
bestowed on it, is worthy of Sir Ralph's good taste 
and of the memories it was destined to enshrine. 
Sir Roger complains. ' My hopes of seeing you at 
the D tors were dasht ; its your pleasure to live still 


amongst the tombes, and to keep company with 
ghosts. I pray be no longer intomb'd, least I prove 
interr'd before you come.' While Sir Ralph is 
absent Henry writes : ' My cousen Smith, Lady 
Haile and cousen Hobart have sent for mee, 
to meet them instantly at Claydon, to showe my 
Lady the house and tombe ; noe dinner do they 

In August 1653 Sir Ralph is sending a hospitable 
invitation to sister Gardiner and her husband. ' Hee 
& all his House shall be most welcome heather, 
though not so finely fed as I was lately at Preshaw.' 
His 2 horses go to meet them. ' I wish they could 
carry Trebble, that your coach might bee lesse 
charged ; however I hope you will order matters soe 
as not to leave a Hoofe behinde. The Honest 
Farmourer will guard the House sufficiently doe not 
doubt it. In earnest, the more you bring, the 
sooner you come, & the longer you stay, the greater 
will the obligation bee to, Deare sister, your most 
affectionate Brother & Servant.' 

He also invites brother and sister Elmes ; the 
former replies : ' your sister & myself do live so un- 
lovingly together that I have no heart to come to 
her freindes : neither do I like to have my freindes 
come to mee, least they should take notice of her un- 
kindnesse to mee.' The fault was not all on one side. 
Lady Elmes' housekeeping was carried on under 
difficulties ; her husband would . sometimes leave 
home suddenly : ' He is now gone a way & hathe not 


left me one peny what ocasion sum ever I shoulde 
have for any.' Their latest quarrel was about a 
maid-servant that Lady Elmes wished to engage, and 
to whom he objected ; but she could give him a 
home-thrust in return : ' she seated herself at the 
lower end of the table, & that before company, say- 
ing it was fitt for him that was mistress to sitt at the 
upper end ' ; a retort which seems to have mortified 
her lord and master beyond measure. The ' com- 
pany ' were all on Lady Elmes' side, and Sir Thomas 
(like Ahasuerus' courtiers) was left clamouring for 
a law which should enable every man to bear rule in 
his own house. 

Edward Fust, of Hill in Gloucestershire, and his 
wife Bridget Denton, were also invited. The Fusts 
were strong Royalists, and Edward was made a 
baronet in 1662 by Charles II. ' for his fidelity to 
the house of Stuart in its extremity.' They were 
a very attached couple, and their youngest daughter, 
Peg, was one of Sir Ralph's special friends. Sir 
Ralph's aunt was stricken with fever. * Our harpes 
are uppone the willowes.' wrote her husband ; 'yett 
all joye & happiness attend you ; & that Quire of 
good companie now with you, one of which I was 
ambitious to have been.' Dr. Denton and his wife 
Kate were expected, and her daughter and the good 
apothecary. ' Present my service to Mrs. Gape,' 
wrote Sir Ralph, ' and charge her on my Blessing to 
Come downe quickly & bring her Willie heather.' 
Captain and Mrs. Sherard were invited, but were 


occupied with building. Sir Roger Burgoyne came, 
and other old friends. 

The unlettered cook did admirably, and the guests 
were loud in their praise of the ' good feeding,' but 
he had some ' gamesome trickes ' which displeased the 
sober Clay don household. When Sir Ralph went into 
lodgings in town in December he lent him to Captain 
Sherard ; a boon Aunt Sherard received with mixed 
feelings. It was delightful to think that her husband 
would be so well fed, but she feared that the 'chef 
might prove too lavish in his expenditure, and ' over- 
bold with the maides,' which would ' be a great hart 
griefe to me.' Fish-pies were amongst the works of 
art produced by Sir Ralph's cook, and sent to friends 
in London. Dr. Denton did not remember that ever 
he tasted any such, except eel and lamprey. Sir 
Ralph had them made of carp : they were not at first 
successful ; one arrived ' tainted.' ' Mine,' wrote Dr. 
Denton, ' was very good, but soe full of small bones, 
that none of us durst touch it, only to taste it.' His 
widowed sister, Mrs. Abercromby, now in very 
straitened circumstances, was at supper with them, 
and upon her commendations of it, the Doctor hastily 
presented her with the remains of the pie to take 
home with her. ' Moll will indite you,' he wrote to 
Sir Ralph, * for contriving to choake her.' The 
pigeon pies were said to be little better ; ' the bones 
of the legs were broken,' but Sir Ralph's cook per- 
severed, and the Doctor sends a message from Nancy 
on the receipt of another basket from Claydon : 


' Madcap is soe well as to tell you & brags much of NOV. less 
it, that she hath jeer'd you into good pidgeon pies. 
These were soe good that there is not one left of them 

Mary's luggage kept arriving from Blois, which 
must have saddened her hushand ; there were trunks 
to be unpacked marked ' M. V.' in brass nails, contain- 
ing odds and ends of women's goods : ' fringes, cordes 
of stooles, cushions and such like,' and the guitar 
that Sir Ralph had so loved to hear her play. The 
boxes had gone through many perilous adventures, 
owing to ' the pyrates and other sea robbers ' in the 
Channel, and ' the porters and such starvling fellowes 
that steal at the Custom houses, where there are as 
many filchers as searchers.' The delays were infi- 
nite in getting them from London to Claydon. Sir 
Ralph's agent in town had arranged with the 
earner to take them, but though the goods were 
brought two hours before the time appointed, the 
waggon was full, and they had to be warehoused 

The carrier might well have been alarmed at 
the bulk and number of the packages : besides the 
1 long elme cases of linnan,' the ' square Box of 
Drawers,' the 'great iron bounde Trunkes,' the 
' yalowe haire sumpter trunkes,' the ' presse for nap- 
kings,' the ' Cabanet in a case,' there were * great 
Bundels ' past telling of bedding, carpets and hang- 
ings, ' hampers of glasses, potts, and trumpory,' and 
a ' Bundel ' of the unfortunate picture frames that 



had already been so knocked about the world. The 
Vandykes themselves were still waiting, rolled up 
at Rouen, for a safe means of sending them home. 
Inside the ' glasses and trumpery ' Luce Sheppard 
packed ' two pound of bisquet, a dozin of oringes, 
and summe liquerish.' The luggage sent by carrier 
often came to grief by the way. Dr. Denton was re- 
proached for despatching a box to Claydon without 
sufficient care. ' The D r ,' he replies, ' is out of tune, 
maugre jeers & flouts, for he did not only tye the 
black box with its owne stronge leather, but alsoe 
coarded it with a packthread, as porters use to coard 
a trunke.' 

Mr. Page, a correspondent at Zante, sent Sir 
Ralph ' Pier pointes curious case of Roman per- 
spective glasses,' but they were sunk by a Dutch 
man-of-war. Mr. Page himself is removing to a 
' remote part of the world, called Peloponesus,' where 
he is made Consul in 1655 ; but after some delay he 
sends the glasses from Venice : their freight by sea 
costs three pounds ten shillings. 

Sir Ralph seems to be employing Cromwell's 
Jan. 16, upholsterer ; for Robert Lloyd writes : ' I went to 
Mr. Conway to desier him to come to Cleydon, but 
his answer was that hee was very sorry that hee 
could not come to you according to his promise, for 
the Lord Protector had sent him an order on friday 
night last for to provide the lodinge at Whitehall, 
and to gett all thinges in a redinesse for hee would 
come there within a fortnight, soe that M r Conway 


can not by noe means sturr out of Towne untill hee 
is setteled.' 

Sir Ralph is planting his park and orchard. 
' Cherry stocks will be two shillings by the hundred, Feb. 10, 


gathered out of the woods : but any better and biger 
ones from the gardens will be from three pens to 
twelfe pens a pece. The holly setts price are eighten 
pens the hundred . . . the holly beris are not cald for 
as yet.' John Hanbury, of Preston Court, sends him 
grafts of good apples for cider. ' 30 or 40 couple of 
Does [rabbits] are to be turned out to feed in the 
orchard, and the grass must be mown if it be too sour 
and long for them.' Cousin Gee is inquiring about 
lime trees in Flanders, where ' they doe abound 
almost everywhere, especially about Lisle, where they 
are to bee had of what size you please for a very 
small matter,' and Mr. Wakefield offers to import for 
him 800 abeles, which he says will be much better 
than ' the Lindeboomes.' Many old abeles still nou- 
rish at Claydon. 

A nursery of young trees is started ' in the Kod- 
ling Knoll in the Garden,' whose seeds are to be 
carefully saved ' and writt upon severally.' While 
Sir Ralph is in London these young trees are 
much on his mind. All the ' Ewes ' and ashes are 
to be staked. He will have some Alders set in the 
wet places of the woods for a trial. In July the new 
trees are to be constantly watered, c especially the firre 
trees & Lime trees in the Garden, and those in the 
whitening yard, and lett a Loade of water be carryed 

x 9, 


to the Wallnutt trees in Barley yard.' Michaud, 
who has no scope for his confectionery talents, while 
Sir Ralph is absent, may help to carry water. 

In a country without stone, brick making is one 
of the most important outdoor industries at Claydon. 

Feb. IGSS The brickyard is to be trenched and the brick- 
makers will come as soon as the weather permits, there 

April IGSS is a list of the tools, wheelbarrow, and moulds ' de- 
livered to the Brickmen.' Sir Ralph is getting 
' Brik pavements ' from a neighbouring village ; 

Aug. less they are 9 inches square, and he inquires whether 
if he ' take soe great a quantity as 12 or 15 hundred 
together . . . six oxen would not well draw 500 
at a loade, for they are not near twice so heavy as 
brick, and any ordinary cart will bring 5 or six hun- 
dred of brick at a loade, now the wayes are good.' 

In 1656 the brickmaker is paid six shillings a 
thousand for making and burning bricks, one shil- 
ling a quarter for burning lime, and five shillings 
a hundred for making and burning ' pavements.' 
Stone-gatherers should be set to work on some of 
the fields. Sir Ralph ' would expect to get some 
fields measured and plotted for a penny the acre, if 
the ditches were perfected.' 

The disputes between the Parson and Squire were 
not yet at an end. Mr. Aris had ever-recurring diffi- 
culties about his tithes. The Council of State re- 
commended in 1649 that they should be valued 
throughout England ' in order to take them away 
and settle in their room some means for the preachers 


of the Gospel.' The matter was under frequent dis- 
cussion in Barebones' Parliament, but that ' other 
competent provision ' for the clergy not having been 
discovered, Cromwell himself declared that while 
this was the case he should consider himself very 
treacherous if he deprived them of their present 
maintenance.' l 

There was also a thorny question at Claydon 
concerning the limits of the glebe, and of an ex- 
change, which it passed the wit of man to bring to a 
conclusion. In this dilemma Mrs. Aris held out a 
private olive branch, and Sir Ralph at her suggestion 
wrote to the Rev. Edward Butterfield, Rector of 
Preston -Bissett : 

' This morning; M rs Aris was more Idnde to mee Oct. 2, 

1 /> ~ \ 

then ever she was in her life ; and declares her greate 
aversenesse to any contest between her husband and 
my selfe, and when wee had discoursed at Large about 
the businesse, shee (in a very friendly way) pro- 
pounded that you might come over, & use your 
good endeavours to end the controversie, well 
knowing that both her husband, and I, have a very 
greate confidence in your friendshipp to us both. 
But M r Aris not knowing anything of this, you must 
carry it soe, as if you came only to visit him, 
. . . wee shall desire you to come too morrow if 
you can, and somewhat early too, that wee be not 
straitened in point of time. God give a good 
success to your undertaking.' Mr. Butterfield replied 

1 Inderwick's Interregnum, pp. 50, 51. 


that he would come betimes, and should think his 
pains well bestowed if he might 'prove instrumentall 
to settle an everlasting peace ' between Sir Ralph and 
Parson Aris. 

The treaty of ' everlasting peace ' was not to be 
drawn up in a day, though Mr. Butterfield did come 
early ; and three weeks later he writes again to Sir 
Ralph in a tone of some discouragement : 

' On Wednesday (though I had designed that day 
for other occasions) I shall with God's leave wait on 
you, and contribute my best endeavours, to finish the 
agreement betwixt your selfe and M r Aris. Sir you 
well know it is for the most part a very thankles 
office, this way of mediation. I should be very un- 
willing to loose my friends for my paines, I shall 
be careful not to deserve it, but if it be my fate I 
must beare it.' So well and warily, however, did 
Mr. Butterfield walk upon egg-shells that when, in 
three short years, the militant Rector with his rights 
and his wrongs was buried in Middle Claydon Church- 
yard, his widow bestowed her hand, and Sir Ralph 
the living, upon this admirable mediator. 

While Sir Ralph was imprisoned for many 
months in 1655, and Parson and Steward girded at 
each other again with all their wonted zeal in his 
absence, the Parson led the attack. With a shaky 
hand, and in very pale ink, he wrote to Sir Ralph 
a folio sheet of provocations offered him by the 
Steward, and sins of omission such as were once 
happily defined by a child as ' the sins a man ought 


to have committed but didn't.' Roades, however, had 
managed, in the Parson's estimation, to commit them 
all. In the head and front of his offending was the 
question of some omitted hurdles at Roger Deeley's 
gate. Sir Ralph had sent minute and special direc- 
tions about the fencing in of Roger Deeley's Lane. 
The hurdles, Roades affirmed, were troublesome to fix, 
the ' Land being so unequal with ridges and furrows, 
that if the rails were even at the Topp any sheepe 
will creepe under them in the Furrowes.' Eight 
carpenters were to be set to work to make posts and 
rails ' to divide betwixt me and the Parson.' 

Roades had given his master to understand that 
the hurdles were actually in their places ; but the 
summer was far spent, and the Parson's beans were 
still exposed to the encroachments of horned cattle. 
Sir Ralph reproached his steward with considerable 
asperity, writing every word in large letters, when 
he approached Roger Deeley's gate, and discounting 
all possible excuses beforehand. 

' I know you will say . . . that the hurt of your 
Legg, the building of your House, and the time of 
Harvest kept you longer from thence then you 
intended, this may bee some kinde of a lame excuse. 
... I will not condemn you unheard, tis not my 
custome ... I cannot yet foresee how you can possibly 
excuse it ... and I shall be noe lesse sorry then 
ashamed to have the world see my commands soe 
slighted by my own servant.' How the Steward 
must have loved the Parson by the time he had 


read through the long list of offences alleged against 
him ! Altogether Roades had a lively time of it. 
Everybody at Claydon heard of Sir Ralph's dis- 
pleasure, and the housekeeper was told that, as there 
could not be much to do indoors, she had better go 
up to the lane and report about the hurdles. The 
scolding given to the Steward had conciliated the 
Parson ; but as Will Roades' brother Ralph, the 
Parish Clerk, farmed land close to the glebe, fresh 
occasions of offence could not fail to arise. In such 
topsy-turvy times it was possible that the Clerk 
might dismiss the Rector ; at least so it seemed to 
poor harassed Mr. Aris ; and if the principles of the 
new democracy permitted the Clerk's hogs to eat 
up the Rector's corn, it was high time indeed for the 
beneficed clergy to depart to a better world. 
Sep. 15, ' Sir,' wrote Mr. Aris to Sir Ralph, l the tenant 


that excused his hoggs for coming into my corne 
. . . was Raph Roades, he speake to me myself 
and threatened to shoote my dog, or knock him 
on the head because he Luggd his hoggs. And 
though I suffered the wronge, yet the gentleman 
uppon some parle betweene him and me, turned me 
away, and forsooth would be no longer clearke, but 
presently delivered up his office to the churchwarden. 
And if he be not belyed he threatened me as well as 
my dog. I told his brother what mischief he might 
bring.' The hogs had got through the neglected 
gaps in Roger Deeley's Lane. ' He seemed to me to 
condemne Raph, but the Lane was not heeded, as if 


he had rather it should make quarrels still, then he 
would be at the least trouble to prevent them ... so 
prayinge for your . . . saife returne thither (where 
there is need enough of your presence, and your true 
freindes indeede long to see you), I humbly take my 
leave & shall remain, Sir, your Servant to be com- 
manded, JOHN ARIS. 

' Sir, if you would rather ditch me in then rayle, 
because the rayles they say are most chargeable tis 
indifferent to me, so there be a dead hedge presently 
made and a ditch throwne up this winter. But I 
hope to see you suddenly with us, and then I know 
you will order all things as they should bee.' 

He adds a second still more placable postscript, 
having just heard that ' there are now 5 carpenters 
about the posts and rayles, and that one made up 
Deeley's Lane on Satterday in the afternoon.' 

So the Steward had carried out at last the Squire's 
peremptory commands, the Parson was contented, 
and peace was restored to Claydon for a season. 




' They say he borrows money in God's name ; the which he hath 
used so long and never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and will 
lend nothing for God's sake. Pray you examine him upon that point.' 

Much Ado About Nothing. 

' To imitate historians in putting prefaces to their 
books, I conceive I need not, for I am confident you 
are so very sencible of my want of clothing. Sir 
my last request to you is for a slight stuff sute & 
coat against Whitsontide, which may stand you in 
60s., the which I will repay you by 3s. weekly till 
you be reimburst. In former times my own word 
would have passed for such a summ, but now they 
require securitie of mee, becaus I live in soe cloudy a 
condition. God put it into your hart once to 
releive my nakedness & you shall find a most 
oblidgeing brother of Sir, your humble servant 

So runs one of the frequent begging letters ad- 
dressed by Tom to his long-suffering brother. ' Faith- 
ful Abraham,' and ' righteous Job,' St. James and 
St. John, are all pressed into the service to teach Sir 


Kalph the duty of almsgiving ; when this well- 
spring of charity threatens to run dry, other members 
of the family are put under contribution. ' I have 
sent to my hard-harted Aunt, only for two bottles of 
her table-beare ... it is my greatest refreshment, soe it 
be fresh & brisk ' ; Uncle Doctor is encouraged to 
send Tom those expensive luxuries ' a few oranges 
or lemons ' if he is indisposed, or at the least 
' some cooleing barley broth.' This is a list of his 
modest requests when meditating a West Indian 
journey : 

* First for a provision for my soul 

' Doctor Taylour his holy liveing & holy dyeing 
both in one volume. 2 ly the Practise of Piety to 
refresh my memery. The Turkish Historye, the 
reading whereof, I take some delight in. 

' Now for my body.' A list follows of provisions 
of all kinds, Westphalian hams, Cheshire cheeses, 
Zante oil, beef suet, everything to be ' of the very 
best quality.' He will not ask for ' burnt clarett 
or brandy,' though he requires it, ' for 1 must not, 
Sir, overcharge you, for you have been highly civill 
to me ' ! 

Liar and braggart as he was, Tom's personal 
courage had never been doubted, and if his ill 
success in Virginia and ' the Barbadoes ' had shown 
his lack of aptitude as a colonist, he might still have 
earned his bread honourably as a soldier ; but ' having 
flown over many knavish professions, he settled only 

in rogue. 


His younger brother Henry, with his cynical 
lack of high aims and worthy occupation, at least 
behaved like a gentleman in the ordinary affairs of 
life ; he prided himself upon the good society he kept, 
and continued to be Penelope's favourite brother 
till death. But in that large family of brothers 
and sisters Tom had not one chum. He alienated 
the love of his first wife and disgracefully neglected 
the second. From being idle and extravagant, he 
had become, at the time we have now reached, 
actually dishonourable and dishonest, and sadly but 
firmly the doors of the old home were at length 
shut against him. If he visited Clay don at all, it 
was by private appointment with the Steward, for 
Roades as long as he lived could only behave kindly 
to the son of his old master. The informer and forger 


might not claim the familiar intercourse of a brother, 
though Ralph still continued to supply his material 

Plausible and quick-witted, with an ever-green 
hopefulness that would have been admirable had it 
led to better things ; born of a Puritan family in 
an anxious and conscientious age, Tom stands out 
as a man absolutely without either cares or scruples. 
While the ship of the State is labouring in stormy 
waters, and men are struggling in agony to bring 
her into port, Tom follows her course with the keen 
and hungry eye of a sea-gull, indifferent to her fate, 
but ready to swoop down upon any scraps thrown 


His share of the family correspondence lays us, 
however, under a deep debt of gratitude ; he depicts 
social conditions to which the admirable Sir Ralph 
must ever have been a stranger. We learn some- 
thing of the shifts and tricks to which a debtor was 
driven, and are forced to admire the cultivated and 
ingenious letters the wretch can write in the most 
unsavoury surroundings, hunted down by creditors 
and racked with fever and ague. To give the scape- 
grace his due, he was not habitually addicted to 
coarse self-indulgence. With the over-eating and 
drinking and low vice prevalent after the Restora- 
tion, most of Tom's nephews and cousins were old 
men at five-and-forty ; and it speaks much for the 
general sobriety of his habits that he continued 
hale and hearty to his ninety-fourth year, surviv- 
ing all his generation. Rogue as he is, his very 
audacity compels us to attend to him, and (as has 
been said of the popularity of the cuckoo) ' the 
world has always a fondness for interesting scamps.' 

In the fateful year 1649 Tom Yerney crosses the 
path of John Lilburne, and the fierce blaze of the 
Leveller's invective sheds a flood of light upon 
passages in Tom's life, but dimly known to us 
through the Verney letters. 

Of all the self-opiniated Englishmen of that 
strong age, Lilburne was surely the most impossible 
to fit into any scheme of government or of society. 
Flogged and starved by the Star Chamber, he had 
hardly done rejoicing over the downfall of that 


tyranny, before he was anxious to impeach Cromwell 
and Ireton of high treason ; and as to Haslerigg, who 
shared his own republican views, he had become in 
Lilburne's eyes ' a Polecat, a Fox, and a Wolf, who 
more justly deserved to die than ever the Earl of 
Straff ord did.' Lilburne was at this time in pri- 
son, as usual, and, according to his own account, 
Haslerigg and Bradshaw were employing ' one Tho- 
mas Verney, a quondam Cavalier ... to plot and 
contrive the taking away of his life ' by getting him 
to write down something that might be used against 
him. 1 This is Tom's first letter with Lilburne's 
1649 8> comments printed in italics : ' For my esteemed good 
friend Colonel John Lilburne, at his Chamber in the 
Tower these present. 

' Sir, Since my arrivall in England I have en- 
deavoured to finde out the severall constitutions and 
dispositions of men, and I perceive the major part of 
those I have discoursed withall, are led more by 
their own fancies then reason; I am very much 
troubled to see how strangely things are carried, 
finding the Subject not at all eased or freed from 
oppression : I pray informe me in any one particular 
thing, wherein England hath received any benefit 
since the warre began ? Oh this is a blessed refor- 
mation ! Those Books of yours which I have lately 
seen doth handsomely lash them ; I am joyfull to 

1 From John Lilburne's An Hue <t Cry after Sir Arthur Haele- 
rig, in the form of a letter to his uncle George Lilburne, August 18, 


hear that we have some true English-men left that will 
stand for our Liberties and just Rights. My earnest 
desire is ... to joyne with you and your friends, and 
to steer my course by your compasse, and . . . further 
your designe in any thing, though it be with the hazard 
of my life, which I would willingly sacrifice for my 
Countries Liberty ... I make my addresses to your 
selfe, imagining you to be the chiefest of those (who 
are in a scornfull way by your and the Common- 
wealths Enemies) branded with the name of Levellers. 
I never yet regarded much the malice of my enemies : 
I beleeve the like in you ; therefore I am the more 
incouraged to joyne with such : Excuse I beseech 
you my liberall and true hearted expressions by way 
of writing. [And yet a greater Judasly vittaine, never 
breathed upon the earth.~\ It is a custome that I am 
used to, & cannot on a sudden leave it. I acciden- 
tally heard of some that were employed in the Coun- 
try to act for you, were taken and carried Prisoners 
to Oxford by some of Colonel Scroopes Regiment. 
[Its a common saying a treacherous Her had need of a 
good memory which Verney wants; for at this time 
Scroops Regiment was at Salisbury in Rebellion against 
their Generall and Officer s.~] If it should be so, you 
must be the more cawtious hereafter, otherwise you 
will wilfully give up your lives as a prey to your 
enemies. I cannot as yet say we, because I know 
not as yet whether I shall be received as a friend 
amongst you or no. I can assure you my friendship 
shall very much advance you businesse, for I shall 


engage many friends in Buckinghamshire (it being my 
Native Country) with me, I am confident to gayne 
the strongest party in that Country in spight of Fate. 
And as for Oxfordshire, Barkeshire, and some part in 
Hertfordshire, I can (by reason of my many friends) 
ingage a considerable party in all those Countries, and 
prevail with others (that love to sleep in a whole 
skinne) to be as Neuters. This I beeleeve deserves 
thankes : But I can further advance your businesse in 
a more considerable way, if I finde . . . that you have 
Gentlemen that are well beloved and well esteemed in 
their Countryes, that can on a sudden (as I shall do) 
bring three or four thousand men into the field to back 
him that should doe you service. If you can do 
so I shall make another provision to you, which is to 
game the City of Oxford for you, which you may 
conceive will be very difficult to do, and many more 
that do not know me. But by my means I shall 
worke with my friends within the Towne as well 
as those without, I am almost confident of gaining 
it : Then shall we be in a condition to furnish our 
selves with Armes, and have a place of retreat 
upon any occasion. ... I dare not come to the 
Tower lest there should be notice taken of me. 
[And yet at the same time had Bradshaws and Frosts 
Commission to write this Letter, pure Rogue /] All the 
acquaintance that ever I had with you, was in the 
Tower, where I had the happiness three or foure 
times to bee in your company, in my honored 
friend Sir John Maynard his Chamber. I know not 


whether you may call me to mind or no, but really 
you will finde a most trusty secret and a most 
obliging friend and servant of THO. YERNEY.' 

Such magnificent offers from a stranger excited 
Lilburne's suspicions. He was asked if ink and 
paper were kept from him, and his speech were free, 
to instruct some friend to treat with Tom by word 
of mouth on his behalf ; or to give him a list of his 
adherents in Bucks. Tom pretended to have heard- 
from a friend of Lilburne's, who was to meet him at 
the George Inn, Aylesbury, 'one Mister William 
Parkins,' wholly a creation of Tom's fertile brain. 
Lilburne consented to see Tom at last, taking with 
him two of his fellow-prisoners as witnesses, who 
feared lest Tom might try ' to stab or poyson him 
in a cup of wine, or the like.' They did not know 
their man. Tom bragged a good deal of his own 
services to the King's party 'five years ago,' and 
'that his Father was slam at Edgehill, being the 
King's Standard- Bearer,' and protested that he ab- 
horred the very idea of being a ' Derby House agent.' 
Lilburne told him that he was 'a juggling knave,' 
and repeated some of the choice stories he had heard 
about him ' from a citizen of London, a Colonel, & a 
Gentleman Cavalier.' 'At which/ Lilburne says, 
'the gentleman (with the impudentest face and 
undaunted countenance that I have seen) denied 

Lilburne did his very best to pay Tom out ; he 
desired that the matter should be brought to ' the 



Committee of State,' and sent copies of the letters to 
' Master Hunt of Whitehall,' which if they had ex- 
pressed Tom's genuine sentiments were certainly 
sufficient to hang him. ' And yet,' as Lilburne says 
bitterly in summing up the whole story, ' the said 
VERNEY continues as great with Bradshaw and 
others at the thing called the COUNCEL OF 
STATE to this very day, as if he were their ALPHA 

and OMEGA; 

There were obscure reports on the other hand 
that Tom had tried to sell himself to Charles II., and 
had been obliged very hastily to leave the Hague. 

August 13, The gossip-loving newspaper ' Mercurius Eleuti- 
cus ' has a wild story that, having stolen a horse in 
France, Tom took refuge in a monastery, ' where, for 
some small time, he dissembled himself a zealous 
Catholique, and, as the sonne to so honourable a 
gentleman as Sir Edmond Varney, had great respect 
and favour shewed him untill hee found an oppor- 
tunitie to steale away sundry priests' vestments, pic- 
tures, and other things consecrated to a holy use and 
of great value, wherewith he fled to Calais, and there 
sacrilegiously sold them.' 

August is ' Dear Ralph,' writes Dr. Denton the next year, 
' I heare Tom is designing to have his Eldest Brother 
sequestred, I have a wolfe by the eares of him. I 
have done w* I can to find out his aime. Ursula 
in much kindnes to Raph told me of it who is now 
one of her White boyes, he that would sweare 
Browne to be alive in '48, that was dead in '42, 


will not scuple to sweare his Brother a turke 
and noe X'stian ; ... he is of the Spaniell kind, the 
more he is beaten the more he fawnes and per contra.' 
Sir Ralph writes in the summer of 1650 : ' Tom is 
still in Prison, and threatens my sister to swear ag st 
her if she keepe him there, God in mercy mend him. 
I thinke there was never such a creature Borne.' l 

He was so cordially disliked that the marriages 
and births carefully registered in each branch of the 
family have not been recorded in his case, except for 
a scornful entry that he had many wives and left no 
children. It is therefore difficult to disentangle his 
domestic history. In 1644 we heard of him with an 
affectionate wife, Joyce (family unknown), a woman 
of good fortune and position; perhaps her parents, 
who were Royalists, had left England in the troubles, 
for Tom airily alludes to ' a wife that I have at 
Mallaga.' Sir Ralph was afraid of meeting her 
abroad : ' Tell me how Tom is, and in what Towne 
in Italy his Wife is, for I neither desire to visit her 
nor to bee visited by her. I doe not beeleive shee is 

1 In 1650 the case of the creditors on the estate of James, Duke 
of Hamilton, came before the Committee for compounding. There was 
a question as to the date of the Duke's delinquency, and consequently 
as to the validity of assignments of property made by him before he 
openly took up arms against the Parliament. The following entries 
appear in the Calendar of the Committee (pp. 24, 2n, 26), Nov. 29, 
1650 : ' Deposition made by Thos. Verney that the Duke came to Ox- 
ford of his own accord in Dec. 1643 with propositions from the Scotch- 
men, and was there a week without guard before he was secured, July 
17, 1651. Exception against the testimony of Thos. Verney, that he 
had 501. given him by the creditors and a suit of clothes to give his 
evidence.' [I am indebted for this reference to the kindness of C. H. 
Firth, Esq.] 

L 2 


dead, tell me if he spake of it, before hee went a 
wooing to another.' Tom declared that he had too 
much trouble with one wife to undertake a second ; 
but there were also rumours of a forgery, which 
made his brother very uncomfortable. Tom wrote 
without any embarrassment to Will Roades that he 
had failed to get rid of a creditor, ' Whereupon I 
feigned a letter to him as commeing from you, and 
that pretended letter of yours contained this to 
have mee signe and seal with him ; therefore I pray 
accommodate him the sayd summ of twenty or 
thirty pound, and in case I refuse (att his comme- 
ing doune into the countrey) to signe and seal, 
I will then pay you double the summ he takes of 

Dr. Denton did his best for Tom, but refused to 
intercede for him with Sir Ralph, till he had given 

Feb. 20, up a certain forged deed. He replied : ' I shall not 
now stand to capitulate ; becaus I know my self, in 
some measure, faultie, and I beleeve you have (for 
my father's sake) a greater care of my reputation then 
I can possibly have for myself : yet this much I can- 
not omitt telling you, which is, That if my ugly 
prank (I give it your one phrase) had taken effect, I 
had left my country with it.' 

Dec. 1652 Sir Ralph writes to the Doctor : ' Tom will raile, 
and stopping his annuity will not mend him ; for 
when he was lowsy, sick, and naked, your care and 
goodnesse to helpe him out of that Misery made noe 
alteration in him.' Tom had been released from the 


Fleet in May 1652, but he found his way there again 
in a few months' time. 

When Sir Ralph returned to England he received 
from Tom a long and ceremonious letter of welcome : 

' These 

' To the hands of my highly esteemed Brother 

' present. 

' Deare Brother. . . . The nois of your landing Jan 31 
affoarded mee more joy and comfort then a wife can 1653 
receive att the report of her deare husband his arri- 
veall from the Indies, after seven yeares voyage ; 
and there reception cannot be with a more ardent 
zeal expressed each to other, then mine should be to 
you, were it not for the reasons which (long before 
this) my uncle hath imparted to you. An error (I 
must confess) I have committed, which hath been a 
blemish to the noble and honest familie I descended 
from. . . . How much I am a sufferer by it, God and I 
best know ; and you may imagine since I have not a 
peny but what you know of. I thought not (good 
brother) for the present to have insisted upon this 
perticuler : but to have stayed a day or two longer ; in 
regard this is the first I have presented you with since 
your commeing to London. . . . The last summer 
I should have gone to see a wife att Mallaga, had it 
not been for the prison keeper, but (a million million 
of thanks to you, for the same). . . . Noe lock nor 
key can now hinder mee : nothing but money is 
wanteing. My greatest stock is now come to one 


poore groat . . . and how I am able to subsist 5 
months with one groat ... I appeal to you and 
to all rationeall and judicious persons.' 

Tom had his own reasons for wishing to be off 
quickly. He was deeply in debt to the landlady of 
his lodgings, and when she took to calling on Sir 
Ralph, Tom was sensible that she ' was an eyesore to 
him,' and she fared no better with Dr. Denton. The 
woman ' had resented his conduct very ill/ he writes 

Jan. 3, piteously to his uncle. ' Feareing that I should play 
the knave with her, shee (not withstanding my then 
weakness, betrayed me into the prison of the fleet, 
and I was brought thither by 8 of the clock the last 
night ; which I feare will be a meanes to putt mee 
into a second relapse ; for I was forced to walk in the 
yard all night, haveing neither fire, money, but one 
poore groat, nor roome to shelter mee in from the 
coldness and rawness of the night.' ' The grave of 
the Living ' the Fleet was called, ' where they are shut 
up from the World, the Worms that gnaw upon them, 
their own Thoughts, the Jaylor and their Creditors.' 
Tom, little fastidious as he was, could not face the 
horrors of the common wards and those ' great rates 
the Gaoler exacts.' 

Sir Ralph lost no time in getting him a private 
room (the lowest price being about 8-s. a week, be- 
sides extra fees), wretched as it was at the best, but 
his ' enlargement ' was more difficult to compass. 

Feb. 7, Tom writes again : ' My confinement is soe very 

Iftra ' 

chargeable, my chamber soe extreame cold, my habitt 


soe thinn, that I did by letter make my desires 
knowne. . . . Good brother, here is now some cold 
snowie weather approaching, which incites mee to 
putt on warmer cloths. I must confess I am moved 
for a coat of shagg'd bayes [baize], but you are sus- 
pitious my cloak would be then pawned. Hunger 
will break through strong walls, and I shall be soe 
plaine with you, as to let you know that rather then 
I should starve, cloak, coat, and all that I had should 
goe to relieve nature : But thanks be to God your 
charitie and brotherly affection hath soe amply ap- 
peared to mee that I have .not knowne what hath 
belonged to want since teusday last.' 

' You are that founetaine,' he wrote again two 
days later, ' from whence all my joy, delight, and 
comfort comes, and long may you live to see, what 
you principally aime att, my amendment. He goeth 
farr that never turnes. Wors livers then my self 
have seen fheir errors and have returned home like 
the prodigall : why may not I ? God hath endued 
mee with a reasoneable understanding ; and I ques- 
tion not a reall conversion, since I have soe courteous, 
soe kind, and so tender a harted brother to help mee 
up before I am quite downe. ... In relation to my 
inlargment, I begg the continueance of a weekly 
supply dureing my restraint. Eighteene pence a 
day, which amounts in the week to 10s. 6d., is as 
low as any one that is borne a gentleman can possibly 
live att, let my wants be supplied by noon, that I 
may have a dinner as well as others.' 


Tom was released before dinner time, but then 
Feb. 11, immediately rearrested. ' By this you have heard of 
my being retaken. I have been now ever since Sun- 
day at night in prison, and have not come within a 
payer of sheets or a bed, or have had a fire or any 
meat to eat, but what I bought with my groat ; and 
if this be not hard measure for one that hath been 
lately desperately sick, let the world judge. Truely 
I cannot conceive that my error committed, doth de- 
serve soe severe and sharp a correction : I must sub- 
mitt, if soe you have decreed, and if I perish I perish.' 
Sir Ralph is exerting himself, and Tom writes 
Feb. 14, again : ' Deare Brother, Your pious (though un- 
merited) charitye ought to be registred in the chro- 
nicle of fame as a memoriall to future ages. Be 
confident, I shall not be spareing in exerciseing the 
office of an herauld to proclaime your worth. You 
may conceive mee a flatterer, but in truth I am not ; 
for I am an enimye to all such sort of persons. . . . One 
thing more, I beseech you, take notice of : which is, 
that I must this night and soe for the future, lodge 
without sheets, if I pay them not two shillings : for 
I have layen in my foul ones a fortnight, and would, 
if I could possibly prevayle with the turnekey, who 
receives money for his sheets, keep them longer, but 
that civilitye I am denyed, as I am all others where 
now I am : therefore I must pay 2s. for a cleane 
payre ; which I begg of you to send mee, and yet I 
cannot but blush for my mentioneing a thing soe 
inconsidereable, and of soe small a moment.' 


The fees for beds were exorbitant ; even those 
who provided their own ' paid fees for the privilege 
of lying upon them, without some one or more of 
their fellow-prisoners being told off to share the bed 
with them.' l 

' Deare Brother,' he writes on his release, * I con- March 
ceive it, both in point of honour and gratitude, to be 
huge gentlemanlike to returne you a letter of thanks 
for what civill favours I received from you dureing 
my restraint, which, in truth, were many. I shall 
celebrate them particularly in my soul, whereby to 
be able to acknowledge them in the least presenting 
serviceable occasion, and live allwayes with this 
will, never to dye beholding to you, but yet niy most 
truely esteemed Brother your most acknowledged 
thankfull servant, THO : VERNEY.' Cromwell had 
turned his attention to the miserable condition of 
debtors in the State prisons, and Tom seems to have 
profited by the milder laws to which they were sub- 
jected after this time ; the old Fleet Prison, with 
which he was so familiar, perished in the Fire of 

There is another curious allusion to the Fleet in 
the Yerney letters which may find a place here. 
The prisoner in this instance was an Irish peer, 
Lord Monson, one of the regicides. 2 As Lord 

1 The (Economy of the Fleete, edited by Aug. Jessop, D.D. 
Camden Society, 1879. Introduction, p. 88. 

2 The Fleet was quite prepared to entertain persons of quality. 
There was a table of fees ordered to be hung up in the hall which 
charged prisoners for their entrance, their accommodation, and their 


Monson owned a deer park, and was in a position 
to ask high prices for his deer, it is difficult to 
understand what he was doing in prison ; but a 
man who was kept in the Fleet under Cromwell 
and in the Tower under Charles II. must have had 
a perfect genius for getting into trouble. Cousin 
Winwood was anxious to buy his herd, and Sir 
Dec. 28, Ralph writes to him : ' Because my uncle D r had 

I f-QO 

more acquaintance with Lord Munson then my selfe, 
yesterday I carried him to the Fleet ; where at first 
my Lord, having almost forgot my Uncle, seemed 
somewhat shy, and carelesse of parting with his 
Deere, but as soone as hee caled him to minde, con- 
fessed clearly they cost him money, and yeelded him 
neither profit, nor pleasure, and was very inquisitive 
what his Friend would give (for you were never 
named), and at last told him, hee knew not what 
to aske, but intreated him ... to get as much as 
hee could for a Poore Prisoner.' 

Tom, in his ' huge gentlemanlike ' manner, begs 
again, five days after his release, for means to 
leave the country. ' If I may be furnished with 
tenn shillings I will goe downe to Wapping and there 
take a lodging in a place where I am not knowne, 

discharge strictly according to ' their estate & degree.' In the highest 
scale were ' an Archbishop, a Duke, & a Duchess,' the second comprised 
' a Marques, a Marquesse, an Earle, a Countesse, & a Viscountesse,' 
and so down by a ' Doctor of Divinitie or Lawe,' ' a gentleman or 
gentlewoman that shall sit at the Parlore Commons,' to the ' poore 
man of the wards that hath his part at the boxe,' who was dependent 
upon alms, from whom no entrance fee could be wrung, but who had 
to pay before he could be dismissed, though his debts might have been 
settled for him. The (Economy of the Fleet, p. 152. 


and soe I can. by accompanieing my self with sea- 
men, have dayly and hourely intelligence what 
shipps are bound either westward or southward, and 
learne both their burden and strenght, and what 
convoy, and allso when they will be ready and soe 
communicate unto your knowledge the truth of all 

He promised if he reached Malaga to send Sir 
Ralph ' the knowledge of my wive's and my greeting, 
together with the scitueation of the place, there 
manner of government, and with what else that I 
shall esteeme worthy your reading.' . . . But he 
has no special preference for Malaga. He next de- March is, 
sires ' to be transported in a shipp that is bound for 
the Barbados. . . . Courteous Brother, That Island, 
and all the Indies over, doth wholly subsist by mer- 
chandizeing : and that person that aimes to live in 
creditt and repute in those parts must be under the 
notion of a merchant or factor, planter, or overseer 
of a plantation, and he that lives otherwise, is of 
little or noe esteeme. ... I could (soe it might not 
occasion an offence) prescribe you a safe way how to 
send mee thither, like a gentleman, like your brother, 
and allso to equall my former height of liveing there : 
but you may perhapps find out a way (unknowne to 
mee) how I may subsist and have a being like a 
gentleman till you can heare I am safely arrived 
there or noe.' 

How Tom was to have ' a being like a gentleman ' 
was a problem which all the family had tried in vain 

to solve ; but Sir Ralph sent Robert Lloyd to make 
arrangements for his departure, and if he would only 
betake himself anywhere, anywhere out of the world,' 
Sir Ralph promised him an increase of 101. a year on 
his annuity, to be paid when he got there, and to 
cease if he ever came home again. The bribe had an 
agreeable sound. ' To depart hence,' wrote Tom, ' I 
am very willing, and to testifye that I am not wholly 
composed of words, I have here presented you with a 
proposeall, and that is, if you are pleased to accommo- 
date mee with a cloth sute and cloak of six pound 
price and tenn pound in money, I shall ingage the 
word of a Christian, my reputeation, and what else 
that may speak me honest, to depart the land in 10 
dayeSj with this provisoe that you will promise mee, 
that as soone as you shall heare when and where I 
am landed, to supply mee, when it shall be my due, 
with that small fortune my father left mee, and if you 
add to it, I shall thankfully receive it.' But the 
negotiations were long and elaborate. By the end of 
the month Tom had abandoned his Barbadoes pro- 
ject ; he craves his brother's consent ' for my spend- 
ing this summer in a States man of warr. Noe 
damned bayliff, nor hellish sergeant can or dares 
disturb my abode there. A place secure enough and 
tenn pound will handsomely sett me upp, and I can 
begone out of the cryes of those cittye hell hounds, 
the next tide of ebb I have my money : ffor the place, 
where the states ffriggotts doe ride att anker, affords 
plenty of commodities that are for that my occasion. 


The desperateness of the service nor the justness of 
the quarrell, doth not att all discourage mee ; for it is 
more honour to dye in the feild then in a stinking 
dark dungeon. My father and my brother shall be 
my patterne, if you say Amen to it. If I dye, it will 
strike a period to my worldly misery and free you of 
a great deal of care ; you can be noe great looser by 
it, whether I live or dye. If I live something will 
be my due, as in relation to my serveing them, 
besides another benefitt will accrew to mee, which is, 
I shall receive the benefitt of much aire, which now I 
extreamely want, and my annuitye will not be spent 
ffor I doe further declare unto you, that I shall not 
leave their service, unless extreamitye of sickness or 
desperate wounds, as the loss of any perticuler limb or 
the like, may call mee from it.' After this outburst of 
heroics Tom condescends to discuss the other plan 
soldier or trader it is all alike to him. He is still 
willing to go to the West Indies if Sir Ralph will 
provide him with labourers and ' such commodities 
to be delivered to mee there 'as should be vendible 
in the countrey.' Household utensils were apt to 
run short in the families of the English planters. 
From a schedule of the goods and chattels sold by 
Joseph Hawtayne in Barbadoes in 1643 we learn 
that he possessed ' one jugge, one table-cloth, six 
napkins, one frying-pan, eleven musketts & twoe 

Tom had exchanged the confinement of the Fleet 
for a wretched lodging ' in Lambeth Marsh/ where 


he was ' allmost choaked up for want of aire,' but out 

of which he scarcely ventured to stir, except on 

April 4, Sundays, when debtors could not be arrested. ' Deare 


Brother, Solitariness is the sly enimye that doth 
allmost seperate a man from well doinge : but your 
aptness hi comply eing with mee in my desires hath 
soe infinitely oblidged mee, that Seariously I want 
language to express my self to the full. A heart, 
and a most true and faithful one I have, wholly 
devoted to your service. ... I must owne you 
rather for a father then a brother. ... I request 
you then to give mee as much holland of 3-s. 6d. an 
ell, as will make mee a shirt or two ; for in truth 
I have but one ... & that hath been a fortnight on 
my back allready. I am as well able to endure the 
lyeing on a bed of thornes, as the life I now lead ; 
ffor what with unwholesome smells . . . and most 
noysome stinks, which clothworkers use about their 
cloth, as allso being drowned with melancholy, my 
life to mee is a burthen.' 

' I doe know of a garment that would last mee 
to eternity, and it is to be purchased for less then 
forty shillings ; which is a grave ; and that I cannot 
have neither as yet ; in tune I shall, then I shall 
have a requiem sung unto my soul, and purchase a 
releas from this my miserable life to enjoy one more 
glorious ; soe I thought to have made an end of this 
my sad complaint, but before I soe doe I make it my 
request to you, if I have either by writeing, or by 
word of mouth abused you, or spoken evilly of you 


(which to my knowledge I never yet did) as to bury 
it in the grave of oblivion, and to weigh those words 
of mine as proceeding wholly from a person drunk 
with passion, and overwhelmed with miseries.' 

Sir Ralph sends him shirts, but refuses to advance 
any money, or to discuss his claims to enter upon a 
' glorious ' life, in a more appreciative world than 
here below. Tom writes again in his lofty style, 
being ' much nettled ' by his brother's coolness : 
' Mr. Lloyd, I am partly satisfied as being clothed by May 24, 
Sir Ra : but the reason that he gives for his not 
advancing the money I understand not ; but am 
wounderfull desirous to know. God is my comfort ; 
I am inocent of doeing any unworthy act, or takeing 
any unhandsome cours since August last ; . . . Mr. 
Lloyd, it is pollicye, though not Christian charity, 
for any one that denies to doe a pious deed, to 
ground that their deniall upon false surmises, and to 
fancye I still take ill courses, though I have for this 
half yearr in prison and out of prison lived hermitt 
like . . . my brother must delude children with such 
fancies. I understand him in that. I am too old to 
be caught. And when I have made my proposealls 
Sir Ra : will take an occasion then, to flye off, as he 
did, when I condescended to goe to the barbados ' ! 

Three days later he suddenly determines to re- 
sume the life of a soldier. ' I am to be listed to May 27, 
morrow in Collonell Ingolsby's regiment, and to 
trayle a pike in his one company : but am to march 
with them on Munday or teusday next to Dover, 


where the hollanders have made many shott, which 
putt the inhabitants into a fright, and have sent 
for ayd. Now this regiment haveing been in Dover 
formerly there in garrison, it is ordered by the 
Generall and Councell of officers to march forth- 
with thither againe : therefore, Sir, I make it my 
request to you that . . . with all convenient speed 
you will send after mee, a cloth sute and cloak, a 
gray dutch felt, a pairr of gray wolsted stockins, 
a paire of shoes, a paire of strong bucks lether 
gloves, and 3 bands, 3 paire of petitt cuffs, and 
3 hand kerchers ; and to furnish mee with a slite 
sword, and black lether belt (all not exceeding 
6/. 10s.) sometime this day. ... 1 shall then most 
willingly list my self as aforesayed to morrow early 
in the morneing in Saint Georg his fields. One 
thing I had allmost forgott, which is, perewiggs 
are not to be had in Dover, therefore I must crave 
to have that with mee : and if you pleas to speak 
to Mr. Lloyd to goe to the three Perewiggs, and 
3 Crownes, in the Strand by Suffolk hous, and have 
but my name mentioned to the master of the hous, 
he being a frenchman, and knoweth the bigness of 
my head and what borders I usueally weare, he will 
by tuesday morneing next make mee one for ten 
shillings that shall doe mee service. ... I beseech 
you hinder mee not.' 

Another letter comes speedily on the heels of the 
former. ' I am to advertise you that I entered my 
self into the States service on Satturday last. As 


for the coat you bestowed on mee, the heat of the 
weather commanded mee to lay it by against winter, 
but that my doublett injoyned mee to the contrary by 
reason it covers the patches of my doublett and 
britches ; I cannot possibly march in it without much 
hazarding my health : And if I stay behind without 
leave, black will be my dayes.' 

In September Tom acquaints his brother with 
his ' sudden & unexpected departure from England 
into Scotland.' He requires 11. for 'the recruiteing 
myself with such needfull conveniences as the cold- 
ness and barrenness of that beggerly countrey to- 
gether with my necessities doth require. Your re- 
fusall will caus mee to forsake my colours and in soe 
doeing I may be liable to a councell of warr, and even 
be punishable . . . thus leaveing the premises and 
my long and teadious marching a foot into Scotland 
unto your brotherly care of mee I take leave.' 

Sir Ralph, taught by long experience to be scep- 
tical, sends on the letter to Mr. Lloyd. ... 'I pray 
enquire whether that Regiment, or that Company 
hee is in, doe goe, or noe, for I doe not heare that 
his Captaines company doe march that way ; but in 
case that this Mr. Palmer or any other friend of his 
will give him credit for 71. to bee layd out in co- 
modities for him, I will undertake to repay it uppon 
my Brother's arrivall in Scotland ; but if he goe not 
thether I will not pay it, for I would not have any 
more of those tricks put uppon me. I will also 
undertake it in case my Bro : dye before or in his 

VOL. in. M 


jorney thetlier which I hope hee will not doe, till hee 
is better fitted for another World.' Mr. Gape on in- 
quiry ' is confident there is no such matter, and . . . 
believes it onely a designe to worke upon Sir Ralph's 
good nature for money.' Tom, all unconscious that 
his brother was so well informed, waxed eloquent 
in describing this imaginary march into Scotland, 
the length of the way, the hardships of that ' frozen, 
barren country,' and his own prospective sufferings 
in the public service. 

In November he is still in London, shivering 
and wanting ' the god of the world, money.' * Were 
I clad suteable to the season of the yeare I might 
have prevented that which I feare will hang on mee 
all this winter, an extreame great cold I meane, 
which is soe irksome to mee, that by reason of my 
straineing my self when I cough, it may puff mee 
into a feavour. M r ffrancis Lloyd hath not been 
wanteing in sending mee Lozanges and other things 
to eas mee, but in regard of our being putt to double 
duty I find little or noe eas . . . my necessities 
would require a supply of warme cloths : But how 
to gaine them, that is the question. Time was, when 
I have equallized my friends in curtesies, and though 
I have hitherto been clouded, and am brought to a 
very low ebb, yet their may come a floud of pro- 
speritye, which may inable mee to express my self 
gratefull. All of us knowes our beginnings, but 
God knowes our endings. I referer the application 
to your one sweet self.' 


* Had I not accidentally seene you in Lincolnes Dec. 10, 
inn feildes,' Torn writes, ' yesterday, you being at 
that instant in discours with a gentleman in a gray 
cloth sute and cloak, of a reddish colloured haire ; 
I had not troubled you with this letter, but beeing 
in hopes of your seeing and not seeing mee, by 
reason of the gentleman that was with you I have 
rather presumed once more, to put you in mind of 
my former request.' He proposes to wait upon his 
brother l on Sunday morning next.' ' I have made 
choice of that day, because it is a day of security 
for mee to walk in, otherwise I am very sencible that 
it is an unseasonable day to visitt in.' Tom was 
nothing if not punctiliously devout. 

On his next brotherly ' visitt ' to beg for money, 
Tom not finding Sir Ralph at home, it ' proved some 
rubb l in his designe.' He writes from ' Mr. Hogg his Ja - 1( ^ 


hous in pide bull alley near the faulcon inn in South- 
wark ' : ' I am bound for the sea, and that in a stately 
shipp of the states, which is called the Lyon, one 
Lambert Cap tn of her, shee rideing now att anchor 
in the Hope, and within three weeks shee will sett 
sayle towards the fleet. I shall not deny, but I may 
loos a legg or an arnie or both, if I escape with 
my life. . . . Amidst the rest of my books I shall 
carry to sea, S r Walter Rawley's history is the only 
one I want, it being a book I extreamely fancye, and 

1 ' As a rubb to an overthrown bowl proves a help by hindering it, 
so affliction brings the souls of God's saints to the mercy-seat." Fuller's 
Holy State, i. p. 2. 

M 2 


would be an excellent companion for mee att sea, but 
it is of to high a price for mee to buy . . . therefore 
I make it still, as all one suite, my request to you to 
write to M r Robert Lloyd to buy mee the sayde 
book, and to put it to your accompte.' He kindly 
advises Sir Ralph to grant his requests at once, or ' I 
shall be putt to an unnecessary expense in commeing 
to you to argue it out with you.' The next letter 
was written on board the Lyon 'in Lee Rode.' 

Feb. 9, ' My over hast hath proved somewhat to my pre- 
judice ; for in the handing of my small parcell of 
goods out of the Lee hoy aboard the Lyon, one of 
my bundls broke, and I lost 3 new shoes.' Would 
any shoes but Tom's have fallen overboard? 'I 
have sent up my fourth to my ensigne to have that 
matched, or one forthwith made to it, and to send 
mee downe one new payre more besides my patterne; 
the which 3 shoes I begg of you to pay for mee, 
and if I live to make a returne, I shall see you re- 

Feb. 20, payed.' He writes ' of the division of our fleet, some 
for the coast of Ireland, some northward, some for 
the straites, and the remaining part to plye to and 
againe upon our Inglish channell, to free the sea of 
holland free- hooters.' Tom had not been two months 
on board this ' stately shipp of the states,' and he 
does not seem to have lost any particular limb, when 
he is back in town, and again plaguing his brother 
for money to send him abroad. 

March 26, ' To what part of the world am I most inclineable 


to repaire too ? Give me leeve (I beseech you) to 


returne you this modest reply. Seeriously (for the 
present) I doe not well know. But be it either for 
Ireland, Scotland, fflaunders, Swethland, or Den- 
mark, I shall give you notice where I am, becaus of 
haveing my annuitie returned mee, as it shall grow 
due. Moreover mee thinks you make an objection, 
and say, How doe I intend to imploy myselfe when 
I am abroad ? Not in idleness I doe assure you : 
for experience telleth mee that that is the mother of 
mischief. A souldier I intend to be till better irn- 
ployment proffer itself.' His desire to be gone was 
quickened by hearing that ' a citty sergeant ' had 
been promised 40s. to arrest him, and was looking 
for his lodgings. ' A missunderstanding between 
the king and his subjects,' he writes magnificently 
to his brother, ' hath been the ruine of himself and 
his three kingdomes : and I feare it will prove mine, 
unless you take in good part my letters, which 
hitherto have savoured of nothing but a reall and 
cordiall affection. I once more implore your aid 
that I may secure my self from the jawes of the 
devoureing lions.' In April Tom shipped himself 
' in the Hanniball, it being a merchantman is since 
cleared with divers others in the fleet, soe in my 
expence of ten pounds I gained six and thirty shil- 
lings, a hopefull voyage.' 

In June his experiences were further varied, as 
the Government took notice of his eccentricities : 
' Upon Munday about noone I was accused of high -Time 6, 
treason and carried to Whitehall, where I continued 


till yesterday being then fetched off upon bayle : but 
am forced to give my dayly attendance till I am ex- 
amined which I am promised by Liuetenant Collonell 
Worsley shall be sometime this weeke. . . . You 
will assuredly heare of mee nere the council chamber 
or else find mee walkeing in the inner court in 
Whitehall about 10 of the clocke.' Nothing was 
proved against him, and he was soon discharged as 
an offender below the majesty of the Tower. 

He had exhausted the patience of Sir Ralph's 
June is, intermediary. ' This day being Thursday,' he 
writes, ' I sent to M r Robert Lloyd for my weekly 
allowance, whose brother being in the shopp would 
neither receive my letter, nor permitt my messenger 
to speak with him, he being, att that instant in the 
hous : but foamed forth some scurrilous language 
injoyneing my messenger to tell mee that I must 
send no more thither ; for nothing that came from 
mee would be there received. . . . God in his mercy 
forgive them,' says this injured martyr, ' and cleans 
their harts from envy, hatred, and malice.' 

The Lloyds refused to have any more dealings 
with Tom, even Roades had been ' disrespective.' 
' There is no rulinge of Beares,' said Dr. Denton. 
'It is an easy thing for Momus,' Tom writes, ' to 
pick quarrels in another man's tale, to make his one 
the better. I supplicate to non for there good word : 
it doth not sute with my nature soe to doe. It is 
best knowne to God how I have desired an amicable 
compliance with you all, and it hath much greived 


mee of the ill retaliation I have received from you 
all, perhapps I may exempt yourself. ... I have 
made choice of one, who hath found my dealings soe 
just, will, if you pleas, take the trouble on him.' 
This admirable man was a Mr. Henry Palmer, whom 
Tom discovered later to be ' an adventurer.' He 
was most obliging in receiving Tom's allowance, 
but a little slack in transmitting it. 

Genteel poverty had an additional burden to 
bear in the seventeenth century in that it required a 
wig. ' Good Brother,' writes Tom in October, ' I 
shall begg but one poore favour more . . . and that 
is for a border to keep mee warme which will cost 
mee tenn shillings. This morneing it was my ill 
happ to walk abroad earlier then ordinary and being 
a great foggy mist, I received some little prejudice by 
it in my head, my haire being very thin.' 

By the end of 1654 Tom has gone back to his 
soldiering. In January 1655 he is begging as usual for 
* a small subsistance dureing the time that God giveth 
mee to live in this miserable world.' In March he 
writes to Sir Ralph : ' I shall acquaint you with a 
motion that was made mee on thursday last, which I 
would gladly undertake. . . . It is to ride in the 
Protector his one troop, not in his life guard, but in 
his regiment of hors, which is now quartered in the 
west. ... I conceive it farr better and somewhat 
more beneficiall to ride then to march on foot.' He 
begs Sir Ralph to advance 20/., which would put him 
into this employment, to be repaid by 4/. quarterly. 

' I am as well able to build Paul's as to rais It by 
credit or else how.' 

less 2 "' ^ n April he has had ' a tertian ague and a feaver 

(which through GodV blessing and my uncle's care) 
I am recovered of ; but to whose account the phisick 
will be put unto, I know not. If I had it by your 
order, I am to return you thanks, but if I am charged 
with it tenn shillings will defray all ; ffor I had only 
a vomitt, glister, a cordiall, and breathed a vane/ l 
He is ambitious of adding a lawyer's bill to the 
doctor's. ' My father-in-law entred into a penall 
bond of six hundred pounds for the payment of 
3001. in 6 months after his decease to S r John May- 
nard (a trustee for me and my wife). . . . My wife 
hath fooled mee of the bond, which drives mee 
to a chancery sute to prove it.' The penniless 
debtor has engaged Sir Ralph's old friend John 

May 22, Fountaine as ' my counsel.' He writes importantly 
how he has to take out ' two severall commissions 
for Hampshire and Southamptonshire for the gayne- 
ing the testimony of my sister Gardiner and my 
brother and sister Elmes,' who were witnesses to the 
bond, ' which when that is done and attested by 
some gentlemen in the countrey, I shall gayne an 
order for the executors to pay mee what they and I 
shall agree upon.' Sir Ralph promptly declines to 
pay for the chancery suit, and Tom is loud in his 

1 To ' breathe a vein ' is an old quasi-colloquial term for blood- 
letting, and 'probably expresses the sense of relief when a much 
distended vein is tapped." 


indignation. i Brother . . . you have not merited 
a brother's esteeme. . Sir, povertye may be blamed, 
but never shamed,' &c. He contrasts Sir Ralph's 
hardness with the generosity' of his ensign, ' though 
he be noe brother nor any wayes allied more then 
by a few yeares acquaintance ; yet pale-faced envye, 
mixt with hatred and mallice hath done there best 
indeavour to sett us att variance ; seariously they 
have encountered with this my unmoveable freind, 
singly, and allso alltogether, and yet they could not 
alter him in his esteeme of mee. I could cordially wish 
I could say the like of you. ... I shall attempt to see 
you,' though he is good enough to add it is ' not my 
desire to receive curtesye in a compulsive way.' 

When Ralph himself is in trouble Tom improves 
the occasion. ' Sir, divisions in families are as much Jul J 1( >. 


in effect as in a state or republique. They are the 
fore runners of mischiefs. God direct his judge- 
ments from us. Perhapps you may imagine I re- 
joy ce att your misfortune, and att your restraint. 
Intruth I doe not.' Tom is in his foul-smelling 
lodgings in Lambeth Marsh, and again very sick ; January 
' Dr. could neither come nor send, the river being 
well stored with ice.' He has a furious quarrel with 
Mr. Gape ' in my sister Mary's chamber ' ; ' shee 
was not wanteing in her indeavours to palliate and March 

*- 1656 

pacify us, which when she saw could not be done 
she wept.' ' My wings are dipt, my troubles are 
many, yet (glory be to God) I indifferently wage 
through them.' Tom has accidentally met with 


July 1656 Mr. Hall, ' who was once deputy marshal of the Mar- 
shalsea now Gaolor of the White Lion prison.' The 
financial matters connected with Sir Edmund's 
management of the Marshalsea had been long under 
discussion between his successor, Sir Edward Syden- 
ham, and Sir Ralph ; the Deputy Marshal was still 
unsatisfied, and asked to submit his claims to arbi- 
tration, in which case Tom would 'gladly be an 
instrument of good.' Sir Ralph next hears of him 
as having been mixed up in a robbery. Tom in- 
August 9, diffnantly asserts that his brother's credulity ' doth 

1656 " . J 

not only feed the fancies of depraveing sycophants, 
but prompts mee to call your judgement and brotherly 
love into question. . . . Wee both had one father 
and mother, why should therefore our affections be 
soe alienated one from the other ? An estate, per- 
happs, you may say ; or that I have merited this 
strangeness from you by takeing base and unwar- 
rantable courses, and in this my soe doeing the name 
and family is dishonoured by it. Admitt, Sir, this 
should be your reply. I hope you will not doe like 
the Mayor of Rye, when a malefactor was called 
before him, he sayd, lett us first hang him, then trye 
his caus. . . . You have beleeved severall things, as 
hath much intrencht upon my honour, fame and 
good name ; as hath been as false as God is true 
. . . but I have a beleif that I shall as soone wash 
the blackamore white, as to alter your unmoved 
hatred towards mee.' 

Tom entered into mining speculations that 


autumn, as less arduous than the soldiering and 
sailoring he had so hastily taken up and abandoned. 
In our day he would have written admirable pro- 
spectuses for confiding investors, and reports for 
shareholders of bubble companies. He is ' at 
Downam in Lancashire,' ' and a noble and true Oct. 23, 
loveing freind to mee hath att my request returned 
mee 50. for I am sinking a mine and I wanted 
money to perfect it. It is more then a brother 
would have donn for mee.' His ' quarteridge ' is to 
be paid ' to one Edward Gybbon Esq re who was 
partly knowne unto you when you were in France.' Ap rii 4, 
Six months later Tom has left his * minerall imploy- 1 
ments, to answer the malice of Sir Tho : Thinn att 
our assizes. My Cozen Francis Drake had patience 
to stay on the bench till the witnesses of Thinn 
were examined, but when mine came to be called 
upon he took his leave and departed; perhapps feare- 
ing I might be worsted in it ... but had he heard 
how I made appeare my innocency in the thing, I 
should have been better satisfied. It is truth the 
jury brought mee in guilty ; but of what ? not of 
the fact, but of too much indiscretion and rashness ; 
which caused the judge and the major part of the 
justices to declare in open court, that they did really 
beleeve mee to be a person meerely drawne in, and 
they hoped it would be a warneing to mee for the 
future. Sir, when Sir Thomas Thinn understood 
the sence of the Bench, and that I was acquitted, 
paying my fees, he cunningly arrested mee in the 


face of the court, charging mee with an action of 500/L 
the which I have [word torn out] bayle too. It will 
not be long till he hath lex talionis, and soe we shall 
make it a cross action. Some tell mee he hath putt 
my name in print and that it is in Mercurius Polli- 
ticus. Two pence will tell mee the truth of that, 
therefore I shall say noe further ... in relation to 
malitious Thinn . . . but humbly crave your fur- 
therance of my journey northwards.' 
April 27, He is detained in Lambeth Marsh (and no 

1 teen 

wonder) by fever and ague ; the kind Royalist 
physician Dr. Hinton is attending him for love of his 
father : every other day the ague ' gives mee a visitt 
butt att uncertaine houres, which gives mee some 
hopes of its leaving mee. This day (being my well 
day) invites mee to putt penn to paper to impart 
unto your knowledge that my partners in the mines 
(hearing of my sickness) doe deal very unhandsomely 
by mee, by indeavouring ... to work mee quite 
out. . . . Want of money to pay my proportionable 
share with my partners . . . makes my agreement 
with them of non-effect.' He begs Sir Ralph to go 
surety for him. ' A mine to you is of noe value 
becaus you understand it not, but I doe, and doe 
esteeme my interest in this my undertakeing to be 
worth to mee, before six months be fully expired, 
600Z. by the yeare. If I doe (beyond all your ex- 
pectations) rais myself a fortune of 4,000/. or 5,000/., 
when I dye I cannot carry it with mee, somebody 
will injoy it, you or yours may have it ; strainger 


things then this hath come to pass. The designe I 
am upon promises a greater fortune then I speake of.' 
Sir Ralph drafts a reply for his servant to write to 
him ; it is much to the point. ' M r Verney, my May i, 
Master desires you to excuse him for passing his 
word for money, hee is resolved against it and soe 
hee hath long declared, therefore you need not trouble 
your selfe any more in this kinde ; this being all I 
have in command, I rest, your servant ROB T KIBBLE.' 

Soon after this Tom turns up at ' Bottle Claydon,' May 12, 
but after a talk with Roades is not encouraged to 
go on to the House. ' Were the world in generall 
as unkind unto mee as a brother, I might well then 
complaine (like Job) miserable comforters are you all.' 
Sir Ralph had authorised the Steward to pay him 
5/., and Tom extracted an extra 21. from Roades' good- 
nature. ' If I dye before quarter day my hors which 
I left in one of your closes is worth his adventure.' 

* My mines ' continue to be most flourishing on 
paper, and in the future, but for the moment ready 
money is urgently required. Tom is at ' Slad- June 
burne in Yorkshire in the forrest of Bowland.' 
' My minerall discoveries ' have come to perfection, 
' which will augment my small fortune betweene foure 
and five hundred pounds the year,' but a paltry sum is 
needed at once to ' continue my repute with my work- 
men. ... I hope you will not envye the prosperity of 
my fortunes but rather smile at my fortunate success. 
I am confident there be some that doth indeavour to 
make strife betweene you and I : but as for my part 


I doe here declare myself to be an enimy of all pik- 
thanks 1 and insinueating people, and I take it as noe 
small mercy in these giddy and unstable times, that 
God hath raised mee a brother that hath afforded mee 
such a comfortable subsistence.' 

The poor wife who has long dropped out of the 
correspondence reappears in July 1657 : she has re- 
turned from Malaga in great want, and Tom desires 
Roades to send her 2/. They are evidently not 

K 5s ary together. Torn has been in Leicestershire ' to the 
mine in Sir Seamour Shirley's ground,' but found all 
the ore disposed of, ' to as much as yielded III. 5-s. ; 
they told mee it was to pay wages and other neces- 
saries, used about the worke. Where money is 
wanteing unreasonable accompts cannot be well 
questioned.' ' I doe still follow my minerall dis- 
coveries at Sladbourne . . . but leave the success 
to God.' Colonel Charles White, of * Bearall neare 
Nott m ,' writes to Sir Ralph for 101. he had advanced 
to Tom ; his friend ' Mr. James Hallam will attend 
him with the acquittance.' Sir Ralph is obliged to 
reply that Tom had long ago desired him to pay that 
money to another creditor. 

During the interregnum following Richard Crom- 
well's fall, Tom falls into ' a labirinth of troubles.' 
' Where to abide in these times of danger I know 

icir* not '' ke writes from East Claydon, ' ffor in my tra- 
vell through Lancashire to Darbyshire, I was taken 
by the militia troop, & carried to Darby for a spye, 

1 ' By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers.' Henry IV. 


& had not I been known in the towne, I should 
have fared much wors then I did ; yet I was detained 
three dayes, before I could be discharged ; it was 
some more then ordinary charge to mee, I dare not 
lodge in any towne or village more then a night, 
least the like danger may befall mee. My present 
thoughts are for Sweden, there to abide till these 
dismall clouds are a little blowne over. Sir, I did 
promise (upon your granting my last request) not 
to trouble you till after michaelmass was past, in 
truth I ... little thought of these grand mutations. 
God in his superabounding mercy, divert his wrath 
from falling on us/ 

He writes again to Kibble from East Claydon : NOV. is, 
* I ought to have taken shipping att Hastings in 
Sussex, but by reason Sir George Booth was att 
that time taken, they were soe strickt that I could 
not find out a meanes to goe ; neither doe I well 
know where to take up my abideing place. Times 
are soe dangerous . . . Charity waxeth cold every- 
where. . . . Yours to his power THOS : YERNEY.' 

Kibble sends him 40s. from his master ; and 
Tom for once seems grateful. ' By your meanes and 
brotherly affection I am inabled to travel somewhat 
further. God restore your charity an hundredfold . . . 
sweet brother yours most affectionately to serve you.' 

The next spring : ' Mr. Palmer (my dayly tor- 
mentor) is in hott persuit after mee with his bayliff 
barking currs, that I am forced to be vigilant least I 
should be by him insnared . . . my intentions are both 


for cheapness & privacy to journey into North Wales 
unto a place called Anglesey some 250 miles . . . 
could you but spare mee one of your cast suits & 
my younger brother a low prized horse.' And so the 
forlorn wretch disappears from view till the ' grand 
mutations ' are over, and it is profitable once more 
to proclaim one's self a Cavalier. 

After the Restoration he has thoughts of accom- 
panying the Lord Windsor to Jamaica, but lacks a 
sufficient outfit ; and in 1662 we hear something of 
his domestic history in a letter of Dr. Denton's to 

Dec. 4, Sir Ralph. ' I hope Tom will not be such a clowne 
as offer to come to you without his new spouse. I 
can assure you he & she were very fine & at a play 
on tuesday last ; ... he had with her 4 or 500/. in 
money ; 50. a yeare besides some expectacions after 
the death of frendes. There's your man Sir.' Tom 
was not driven to so desperate a step without cause. 

July i, He complains : * I doe not love to trumpett out 
the great paines & care I have (for 4 yeares last 
past) taken to rais a lively hood, and if it hath not 
pleased God to prosper my indeavours, my ingenuity 
is not to be blamed. It is a Scripture saying, that 
Paul doth plant, and Apollo water, but it is God 
that doth give the increase. ... Sir the ant reads 
mee a lecture of providence & industrye which I 
have indeavoured to imitate ; the bee allso of witt 
& sagacity ; for this little foul when shee goeth 
abroad a forrageing, and is (perhaps) surprised with 
windy weather before shee returns back againe, takes 


up some gravell in her fangs to ballance her little 
body, then shee hoyseth sayle and steeres her cours 
homewards more steadily.' With such pious and 
scientific motives Tom seems to have taken up a 
wife in his fangs as ballast, and now with a more or 
less happy shot at the long Welsh name, he an- 
nounces that he is ' upon purchasing a leas of the NOV. 24 

-j *) 

King for all his majestic' s waste lands, lyeing in the 
parish of Llan vh=angell-croythin, in the county of 
Cardigan in South Wales : but I cannot gett Sir 
Charles Herbord to make a report of the King his 
reference on my petition till he hath received a 
certicate from Mr. John Yaughan, who is his 
majestic' s steward in those parts ; which hath 
occasioned my takeing a journey into Wales to 
make M r Vaughan my friend.' He proposes to 
visit Sister Mary by the way. 

Tom refers to his second wife as ' a mayden Feb. 12, 
gentlewoman, who is the eldest daughter of the 
Kendals of Smithsby in Darbyshire, of an ancient 
family, though of noe very great estate, yet her 
portion would be worth 1200/. if it were well secured.' 
He is plunging into a lawsuit to obtain it, for which 
Sir Ralph is to provide the money. ' I would not 
have my wife to be sencible of my wants becaus I have 
hitherto possest her with the contrary. . . . Sir my 
letters are ever over teadious, which you (in your 
candid nature) pass by, it being your brother's error '; 
and lest any doubt should linger in our minds as to 
Tom's motives, we have this testimonial which he 
VOL. in. N 


gave himself on 'St. Thomas Day, 1661: Sir, 
Want is the greatest provoker to mischeif, experience 
telleth mee the same, I could wish the occasion 
were taken away, and you would soone heare of 
an alteration in mee, ffor I am not natureally inclined 
to evilV 




1 Necessary and ancient their Profession, ever since man's body was 
subject to enmity and casualty : for that promise " A bone of him shall 
not be broken" is peculiar to Christ.' FULLER. 

DR. WILLIAM DENTON, whose letters have been so 
largely quoted in these volumes, was the youngest 
son and eighth child in a family of thirteen, twelve 
of whom lived into middle life, and most of them to 
old age. His father, Sir Thomas Denton, and his 
mother, Susan Temple, were both endowed with 
strong health and vigorous understandings ; William 
was born in her old home at Stowe on April 14, 
1605. 1 

1 Children of Sir Thomas and Dame Susan Denton : 


Sir Alexander, b. 1596 = Mary Hampden, d. 1645. 
John, b. 1598, a barrister of Lincoln's Inn. 
Paul, b. 1599, d.s.p. 1678. 
Thomas, b. 1600, d.s.p. 1678. 
George ' died hi Holland.' 
William = Katherine Fuller. 


Margaret, b. 1594 = Sir Ed. Verney 
Susan = Capt. Jeremiah Abercrombie. 


The Dentons and the Temples had large families 
in several succeeding generations ; the Doctor's 
mother had been one of twelve children, and his 
Aunt Hester Sands, wife of Sir Thomas Temple, ' had 
four sons and nine daughters, which lived to be 
married and so exceedingly multiplied that this 
Lady saw 700 extracted from her body. . . . Thus 
in all ages,' says pious Fuller, ' God bestoweth 
personal felicities on some far above the proportion 
of others.' Doctor Denton's share in these ' personal 
felicities ' was the possession of such a number of 
first and second cousins, that there was scarcely a 
county family in Bucks to whom he was not related ; 
a fact which gave him a great deal of social in- 
fluence when added to his personal popularity and 
his professional reputation. 

Educated, like Sir Ralph, at Magdalen Hall, Ox- 
ford, he studied medicine under a famous physician, 
Henry Ashworth. He took his doctor's degree at the 
age of twenty-nine ; two years later, in 1636, he was 
appointed Court Physician to Charles I., and attended 
upon his person in the Scotch war of 1639. l After the 
destruction of ' sweet Hillesden ' House, and the death 
of his eldest brother in the Tower, 2 the Doctor and his 
lawyer brother John did their best for Sir Alexander's 

Bridget, b. 1607 = Sir Edward Fust. 
Elizabeth, b. 1610 = Thomas Isham of Pytchley. 
Anne, b. 1611, d. unmarried. 

Margaret, b. 1612 = 1st, John Pulteney ; 2nd, Hon. Wm. Eure ; 3rd, 
Hon. Philip Sherard. 

1 See vol. i. pp. 303, 307. 2 Vol. ii. pp. 188-205. 


fatherless and motherless children. The eldest son, 
John, met with a soldier's death in the Civil War ; 
Elizabeth, the eldest daughter, married Francis 
Drake in 1637 at Middle Claydon ; Margaret mar- 
ried Sir William Smith just before her father's death 
in 1644 ; Sophia died in childhood ; but four boys, 
Edmund, Alexander, Thomas, and George, and five 
girls, Susan, Anne, Arabella, Mary, and Dorothy, 
remained to be provided for out of the wreck of the 
family fortunes. Some of the relations, while taking 
care to do nothing themselves, advised that Ralph and 
Mary should adopt the girls ; but as they had his 
five young sisters to care for, Mary declined the sug- 
gestion with some warmth. So the charge of the little 
flock of orphans fell chiefly upon Doctor Denton. 
He thought of sending Edmund abroad to complete 
his education, but the youth provided for himself 
more agreeably by an early marriage with an heiress, 
Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Richard Rogers, Kt., of 
Eastwood, co. Gloucester ; Alexander read law, and 
eventually became a Bencher of the Middle Temple, 
succeeding his uncle John as the legal adviser of the 
family ; Thomas and George, in default of more 
genteel openings, were apprenticed to linendrapers. 
The girls turned out creditably. Soon after Mary's 
funeral there was a quiet little wedding at Claydon, 
when Susanna Denton gave her hand to Robert 
Townsend, the worthy Rector of Radcliffe ; Anne . 
became the wife of George Woodward of Stratton Dec. 19, 


Audley ; Mary, some years later, married John 


Townsend, younger brother of Robert ; Arabella and 
Dorothy remained spinsters ; the gravestone of the 
latter at Hillesden shows that she died, in 1712, in a 
ripe old age. For some years all went well, except 
that young Edmund's hospitalities were 011 a much 
larger scale than his uncle thought prudent ; he was 
rebuilding his house, and the Doctor speaks of him- 
Sept. 1652 self as a wandering Jew ' that have my Manors of 
Clay don, Hillesden, & Stowe to keep re veil rout in, 
but not a foot of land in the county/ Then sud- 
denly the young Squire of Hillesden died, leaving 
his heir, scarce three years old, with two baby 
brothers, to be cared for by their great-uncle 
as he had 'cared for their father and uncles before 
them. The little Alexander was one of Sir Ralph's 
many god- children, and very kindly did he also look 
after him. 

Doctor Denton's ideal of womanhood was Mary 
Verney, whom he worshipped with reverent and 
entire devotion. The friendship on both sides was 
a beautiful one, and though Doctor Denton's wife, 
who was made of commoner clay, thought Dame 
Mary vastly overrated, her husband rejoiced at the 
Doctor's great appreciation of one whom he him- 
self always described as an ' incomparable person.' 
When the supreme sorrow of Ralph's life fell upon 
him his uncle's sympathy was his best earthly 
, support. The Doctor was heart-broken that the 
husband and wife he loved so well should be ' dis- 
severed and disunited in a strange land,' but with 


Kalph and all other mourners he strove to minister 
from the highest sources to a mind diseased. ' Some 
Saints have beene excessive in mourninge,' he wrote, 
* as David for Absalom and Rachel for her children, 
but Christ disliked Jewish minstrelsy for increase of 
sorrow. If ever I had found that God had respected 
the person of Princes or of the rich, more then of the 
poore, I had longe sinse been confounded in my selfe, 
but when I consider that God spared not the Angells 
for their excellency, nor the old world for their 
multitude, nor Jerusalem for its faire buildings, nor 
Saul for his personage, nor Absalom for his beauty, I 
comfort myselfe w th this that God giveth and God 
(not the Sabseans) taketh away, and blessed be the 
name of the Lord. ... I pray God guide us all w th 
his councells while we live and afterwards receave us 
to glory. Adieu, Deare Ralph, Adieu.' 

It seems strange, after such a letter, to hear the 
Doctor described by Sir George Wheler, who knew 
him well, as ' an Ingenious and Phasesious man/ 
who, ' for his Polite conversation among the Ladies 
of Charles I's Court was called the Speaker of the 
Parliament of Weoman.' x But his humour was as 
spontaneous and genuine as his piety, and he could 
be as ' nice ' and as ' curious ' in his discourse as any 
of the Court wits of the day. 

The Speaker of the Parliament of Women was not 
very happy in his own choice of a partner, though he 
made several ventures. His first two wives are mere 

1 The Genealogist, vol. iii. p. 47. 


shadows ; they left no mark on the family history, nor 
are their very names recorded on the Doctor's tomb- 
stone : one (we learn from a scrap of paper in Lord 
Fermanagh's genealogical notes) was ' Lady Mus- 
champ of Yorkshire.' His third wife and the mother 
of his only child was Catherine, daughter of Bos- 
tock Fuller, Esq., of Tandridge Court, Herts, and 
widow of Edmund Bert. ' Queen Katherine,' as her 
husband called her, was a loud, hearty, vulgar 
woman, affectionate and impulsive. She had four 
children, at least, when she married the Doctor. 
With his large income and a house in the then 
fashionable quarter of Co vent Garden, they lived 
in the best society of the town. We constantly 
hear of their hospitalities and engagements : they 
are dining with my Lady Suffolk, with my Lord 
Mulgrave, or with the Countess of Barrimore : 
Lady Fust and Lady Hastings dine with them, ' and 
Lady Heale etc. have invited themselves ' to Mrs. 
Denton's at night. ' Doctor's widow,' as she was 
illogically styled in the family, was a woman of 
generous tastes, prompt to spend all the money that 
he made. The silk gowns of the Miss Berts excited 
the envy of the better-born and much worse-dressed 
Miss Verneys, and turned the head of the worthy 
apothecary William Gape, who with the help of 
three young Welshmen, Henry Foulkes and the 
brothers Francis and Robert Lloyd, made up the 
medicines and ran about upon the Doctor's errands. 
The marriage of Moll Bert and William Gape in 


1648 has been already told. 1 In the autumn of 1650 
Dr. Denton writes : ' It pleased God to take my Oct. 20, 
wife's Pegge to himselfe on friday last, for w cb she 
is straingly afflicted, I pray God comfort her, the 
death and sicknesse of these two children have 
cost me above 1001. extraordinary which forces me 
to sell my plate.' The Doctor's impulsive gene- 
rosity often brought him for a time into financial 

The next spring Sir Ralph's dearly loved sister 
Susan died. Such constancy as his own was rare, 
and scarce five months after he had received the 
widower's broken-hearted letter 2 he heard from Dr. 
Denton that he was marrying his remaining step- 
daughter Betty Bert to ' Brother Alport,' and that he 
had 'leapt into a debt of neare 1,0001. ; 500/. to 
Alport, and 200/. to Gape.' Sir Ralph thinks his 
gifts to his wife's daughters more liberal than wise, 
for, however good a physician he might be, he could 
not ensure himself a long life. The Doctor writes 
again : ' I am soe busie about marrying my Betty to July 31, 
your Brother Alp : that I have scarse any time to 
write. . . . Your accounts . . . shall be sent . . . 
if weddinge affaires hinder not'; and on the 4th of 
August he is ' at a Taverne having this day married 
Betty to Alport.' Sir Ralph is gently sarcastic in 
his congratulations : ' I wish your daughter Betty 
all the Hapinesse she can desire or hope for with my 
Bro : Alp : ; God grant her life that shee may prevent 

1 See vol. ii. p. 314. 2 See vol. ii. p. 386. 


the trouble of his Fourth wooing.' This pious wish 
was granted : Betty Bert did not give Mr. Alport the 
trouble of marrying again ; she did so herself, and 
after his decease became the second wife of Mr. Leche 
of Garden. 1 

After the family gathering at Claydon to cele- 
NOV. 10, brate Sir Ralph's return Dr. Denton writes : ' Noble 

1 CO 

Knight, If you had taught me but halfe as well as 
you fedd me, I should have had more manners, and 
you more thanks. I know you have a lusty faith, 
and you cannot better imploy it then to beleeve that 
I wish and love you as well as they that tell y u soe 
in more quaint termes, therefore take my downright 
harty thanks with out welt or guarde. 2 My wife is 
very considerate and returns you her thanks [Sir 
Ralph offered to pay her journey to Overton to visit 
Betty Alport], but consideringe that she hath putt 
you to trouble and charge enough already, and 
therefore for feare, as Tom footman saies, you should 
not be worth a groat, she is resolved to save 
you 20s. and will not goe to Chesshire. Y rs body 
and bones, WM. D.' Mrs. Denton desires that Sir 
Ralph should send her an old shirt for ' clouts,' 
even if it should be his last. 

1 Lord Fermanagh's note-book records the names of some of their 
children : ' John Alport dyed Coelebs, Robert Alport married Manwaring 
and left issue ; Katherine married to Parson Wright ; another daughter 
became Mrs. Dodd.' Betty also left ' several children ' by her second 
husband, but the present family at Garden descend from Mr. Leche's 
first wife. 

2 'The body of your discourse is sometimes guarded with frag- 
ments.' Much Ado, I. i. 237. 


Moll Gape affected sporting tastes, difficult of 
indulgence in the apothecary's London house. She 
writes to Sir Ralph after a visit to Claydon : * Sir, Jan. IB, 
Trey I thinke is just now upon her delivery, she 
hath had 12 p.upyes but halfe of them bee dead, but 
them that are liveing are very fatt and by the next 
returne they will send you downe many thankes for 
the bones of your partridges and larkes. Pug is very 
well but hee is now very malancholy for hee hath 
sate alone in the darke all this night. Lewis hath 
bin att Billingsgate eateing oysters with her bulli- 
boyes, wee dranke two bottles of rhenish wine in the 
must last night, when wee wished heartily for Gaffer 
Verney, and soe wee shall upon Fryday att dinner, but 
att night a fyg for the Knight : soe farewell. YRAM 
PAGE.' Mary Gape seems to have thought it vastly 
witty to transpose the letters of her name. 

Another day she is determined to surprise Sir June 1054 
Ralph without his wig, ' for she threatens hard 
that if she comes to Claydon she will steale a 
paire of your breeches and putt them on, and then 
she will venture to see your bald pate, and she bids 
you clap while youle clap.' Mrs. Gape is always 
putting in quaint messages and postscripts. She 
writes across a business letter of her husband's to 
Sir Ralph : ' Yram Page's service to her executioner.' 
She was her mother's own child. This is how 
' Doctor's Widow ' approaches Sir Ralph about a 
tailor, a namesake of their own, who had forfeited 
his custom by spoiling a suit made for little John : 


May 11, * Ris hplar [she reverses Sir Ralph's name as she 

does her own], I have bin so earnestly solicited by 
Mr. Denton and his wife that hee might have your 
worke againe, who is extreamly [sorry] that any 
thing passed from him to offend you in that nature, 
aijd if you will bee pleased to accept of him, hee will 
bee very diligent to give you content for the time to 
come. And now I have spoken for him ... I will 
not bee denyed, the next time you have occasion to 
make use of one of his trade that he must be the 
man, and Yram Page saithe that you are a very 111 
Conditioned man and of a currish nature, and the 
next payre of breeches that any other taylor shall 
make you but hee, I wish your breech may stand 
wher your belly should bee, soe expecting to finde 
you in a charitable minde, I rest youre affectionate 
Aunte and Servent, ENIRHTAK NOTNED.' Her inter- 
cession prevailed, and Denton the tailor continued to 
make the family suits for many subsequent years. 

If Mistress Kate lacked refinement, she was a 
good-natured, comfortable wife : she mothered little 
Jack Verney very kindly after his return from Blois, 
and when he went to school ' Queen Katherine cried 
downe right to part with him.' Doctor Denton, with 
the sweet temper and ready tact that made him so 
welcome in other people's homes, was not likely to 
make difficulties in his own. He had been the most 
indulgent of stepfathers, and the birth of his own 
child Anne, in 1640, made him supremely happy. 
Sir Ralph's affection for Nancy was another link 


betweeD them, and ' Kate and Monkey ' were always 
welcome at Claydon when the Doctor wished to send 
them out of town. ' Wife begins her march on 
Munday,' he writes to Sir Ralph on one of these occa- 
sions, ' and Munkay with her, I would advise you 
to quitt your country honourably before Munkey 
comes, least she make you fly it shamefully after- 
wards.' How much Nancy enjoyed the visits to her 
godfather we gather from a letter of Dr. Denton' s 
about one of his own great-nephews : ' He is a for- 
ward young sparke and takes it ill if the whole house 
will not doe as he dictates, and talks as often and 
as boldly in the house as Munkey to old Raph.' 
1 Claydon doth not want us, soe much as we want 
Claydon,' wrote the Doctor in answer to one of 
his nephew's pressing invitations, ' nor Ralph want 
Kate, soe much as Kate wants Ralph, or else she lies 

Never was a friendship more perfect and more 
enduring than that between William Denton and 
Ralph Verney. ' I confesse Meum and Tuum de- 
vides most men,' wrote the latter about some busi- 
ness complications, ' but by the grace of God it shall 
never devide us,' and it never did. He was such a 
man as Bacon commended in the quaint phrases of 
his day : ' You may take Sarza to open the liver ; 
Steele to open the Spleene ; Flowers of Sulphur for 
the Lungs ; Castoreum for the Braine ; but no 
Receipt openeth the Heart but a true Frend.' 

When Dr. Denton entered the profession a 


new world was opening to science : alchemy was 
giving place to chemistry, and medical treatment 
was beginning to be based upon clinical experiment 
and observation, rather than upon tradition and 
hypothesis. If his name is not associated with 
original research, at least he laboured assiduously 
to keep himself informed of the great discoveries of 
his age, both in England and on the Continent. 
Unwearied in his devotion to the sick and suffering, 
so little hardened by familiarity that he could never 
attend a death-bed without being deeply moved, he was 
the trusted adviser and reconciler in many dark hours 
of family history. With a large hopefulness and 
toleration born of his wide acquaintance with human 
nature, with a caustic tongue, and a generous heart, he 
maintained the high traditions of his noble profession. 
He was a voracious reader, specially of theology and 
philosophy ; a letter written by him, as a mere youth, 
to Ralph, as a schoolboy, shows the serious bent of 
his mind from his earliest years. He had sent his 
nephew his own copies of Justin and Salvian : 
* Amongst other advertisements for your study, I 
desire to cast in but one, that divinity, the prack- 
tique (for knowledge alone doth not save) be ever 
att both ends of your other studys. for without that 
there can be no true content in any study. There 
is noe end of makinge many bookes and much study 
is a wearisomness of the flesh, feare God and keepe 
his commandments for this is the whole duty of 


Dr. Denton rushed about in town and out of 
town, just as our great doctors do to-day. ' It would March 
be a very great hindrance to him if he should be 
absent from the towne but tenn dayes, for he hath 
been offered a great deale of money to goe but fivety 
miles out of towne. and he could nott.' When he 
hopes to allow himself a short holiday at Clay don, 
he is stopped by a message from a patient, after he 
had sent his man on, and was actually about ' to putt 
foot in coach.' This is his account of a week in 
June 1650 : 

1 Dear Raph. I have since Thursday last (the day 
my boy was cutt for the stone and one round flat 
nugget was taken out about f of an oz weight) beene 
almost confounded with business, so that I have 
scarse had a minute's time to putt pen to paper, and 
this very day betweene attendinge my Lady Syd [en- 
ham] in a vomitt (who was as sick a creature as ever 
I sawe) and attending the sessions in giving evidence 
uppon life and death in a businesse of the murther of 
M r Ozler the Ser : in w ch I doubt one M r Bovy will 
suffer, though I am clearly satisfied he died not of 
the wounds ; and this with my not receiving any 
letter from you this week (though happily it may 
ere this be at my house where I have not beene 
these many hours) must excuse my cutted writing.' 
' I have been sent for downe by my Lady Temple March 
but denied her,' he writes another time, ' but if I 
thought T. Isham would be sick I would make a 


virtue of necessity.' 


In August 1657, though very loath to leave town, 
the Doctor has an earnest request to visit Lady 
Wenman at Thame Park : she was a Hampden, a 
connection of Sir Alexander Denton's wife. He 
' writt to my Lady hopinge to have had a Quiet- 
us es, but her answere was not able to endure the 
hearinge of my not cominge, soe I doe resolve to 
wait on her this weeke.' Arrived at Thame, he has 

Sept. 5, other calls upon him. ' I doubt, I shall be in a 
posture to stir from hence this weeke, because I 
must make thinges ready to put my L d and Lady in 
a course for phisick/ On the 8th he reports pro- 
gress to Sir Ralph. ' My Lady was purged yester- 
day, & my Lord vomited today, and untill I have 
settled them, I cannot with any conveniency stirre 
any whither.' He gets over to Hillesden, but must 
fly back again, having only left my Lord and my 
Lady physic enough to last till the 15th. 

All through his early years he had done his busi- 
ness on horseback, but about the age of forty-five 
the desire for a coach gradually grew upon him, 
and ' Queen Katherine ' yearned for a phaeton. Sir 

Sept. is, Ralph warned him that ' a coach were more con- 
venient than healthfull for you, but you may ven- 
ture on it, for I will exercise you. If you resolve to 
keepe one tell me soe, and deferre it for a time, the 
Weather will not yet bee ill, and tell me if you like a 
coach with one end, and a Bed as are used in France, 
or with 2 ends, y e first is light, and holds but 6, the 
other heavy and holds 8, and soe more apt to breake, 


and kill horses too.' Such accidents with the pon- 
derous carriages and heavy roads entailed heavy 
expenses, 'insomuch as some stick not to averr,' 
says a contemporary pamphlet, ' that before the com- 
mon use of Coaches, few but Traytors or Felons 
made shipwrack of their freeholds.' 

' I thanked God we gott safe to Claydon on Sat- 
terday night,' the Doctor wrote to Sir Ralph, who 
was absent, ' but I left one of my coach horses dead 
at Alisbury which doth much disgruntle me, not soe 
much for y e valew as for y e disfurnishinge me to all 
intents and purposes, for he was not only for my 
coach but he paced as easy as any sitt horse, and if I 
had had occasion to have ridden 40 or twice 40 miles 
quickly, he would have done that to. Soe much 
for a dead horse.' Another time his nephew, Mun 
Denton, is to ' have his horses in readiness to helpe pull 
me through the dirt from Alisbury.' On a journey 
to Cheshire in 1656, for Betty Alport's confinement, 
' Doctor lam'd but 3 of his 4 horses by the way soe 
hee got safe though not sound to Overton ' ; with 
such delays the crisis was over before the Doctor's 
arrival. He managed, however, to be in time for 
the christening, which was ' not without a fidler 
and the merry cup, and the toast of Sir Ralph's 
health.' The return journey was equally difficult ; 
the coachman got an ague, ' soe betweene lame horses 
and lame coachman and rayny weather we are to 
gett home as we can. My mare proved well beyond 
expectation, but at present is gravelled and soe we 



are coach bound.' The sick coach-horses of the family, 
like the children, came to Claydon for change of air 
June 4, and good country food. ' I quite forgot to see my 
coach when last att Claydon,' writes Dr. Denton to 
Sir Ralph. ' I pray give it a visitt, & if mouldy, I 
know you are soe cleanly a person as to gett it 

There are constant jokes about his steeds ; one 
cost him 8/., and he would not willingly sell it for 
less. ' Most excellent Caufe Ralph,' he writes on 
August 13, ' I see you will never loose that name 
which was given you before you were Xtened, whilst 
you can goe 9 miles to suck a Bull & come home 
athirst. I am wonderfully pleased that you were 
cheated, because you cheated me, & did not lett me 
know you were in y e country. But to stop your 
mouth from wranglinge with your Doctor (who in- 
tends you all kindness possible) hee will have a writt 
of remove for his colts from Hillesdon to Claydon & 
soe you shall be cheated noe more ; lesse he cannot 
doe in prudence to his owne concerne, seeinge his 
other rare palfry hath had such experience of your 
soyle as to put him off for 7. 2. 6. which certainly 
was by reason of his gay cloathes he gott att Claydon 
& not his goodnes. I should be sorry if ... Mun 
had not my letter to him, wherein was a token of my 
love to him even a wonderful ballat not inferiour to 
that of Guy of Warwick.' Henry was quite reckless 
of the trouble given by his beasts at Claydon ; he 
has a mare no hedge or rails will hold, of whom he 


writes : ' I like it well that all my cattle prove as 
madd as myselfe for that is a true testimony of their 

A physician's fees in the seventeenth century seem 
large in proportion to the pay of other professions, 
and the laity then as now grumbled and paid. ' Sir 
Theodore Mayerne is buryed,' writes Dr. Denton, 
' and died worth 140,000/.' Sir Ralph thought SOL April 5, 
too small a fee to pay Dr. Denton for his attendance 
on his wife during her confinement, but for his 
pressing poverty he would have sent him 50^., equal 
to about 200/. of our present money. Dr. Rad- 
cliffe's regular fees were estimated to bring him in 
an income of at least 4,000/. a year ; Dr. Mead's 
were valued at between 5,000^ and 6,000/. Sir 
George Wheler's sickness after a Christmas dinner at 
Dr. Denton's, cost him ' the best part of 100 pounds.' 
He had caught a chill after dancing, which turned 
to ' a spotted feavour ' ; Sir George Ent was called 
in : he had all sorts of ' Applications of Blisters and 
Loudanums.' ' My Apothecary's . . . bill came to 
28/. He was a good man, and told me, if I fell into 
a feavour again, Sage Possit would do me as much 
good as all the Physitians Prescriptions.' Wheler 
adds that Sir George Ent continued ' ever after my 
kind friend to his death.' l Sir Ralph was glad to 
borrow money of his wealthy neighbour, Dr. Bate, 
the famous Oxford physician, and when he found the 
interest burdensome he hoped that the Doctor might 

1 See Genealogist, vol. iii. pp. 47, 48. 

o -1 


be willing to take land of him in settlement of his 
claims, but he declined. 

Many physicians were men of good family and 
social position ; several of them were spending large 
fortunes in the most public-spirited way. Dr. 
Thomas Sydenham held one of the highest positions 
a politician and legislator could rise to under the 
Commonwealth, as a member of the Council of State. 
His brother, Colonel William Sydenham, was Governor 
of the Isle of "Wight, and called to be a member of 
Cromwell's Upper House. Dr. Radcliffe sat for 
Buckingham in Parliament. But some of the old 
Royalist families in the shires refused to admit a 
physician into their society, or to grant him the 
position which he naturally held in London. This 
was emphatically the case with the Ishams, who as 
large landowners and members of Parliament held 
the same place in Northamptonshire that the Verneys 
did in Buckinghamshire, and who were connected 
with them by ties of friendship and by the alliance 
of both families with the Dentons. 

Dr. Laurence Wright, physician in ordinary to 
Oliver Cromwell, who held a distinguished office in 
the College of Physicians, and had a large and lucra- 
tive practice, was desirous that his only son should 
make a fashionable marriage. Sir Ralph wrote for 
London, hhn to Sir Justinian Isham : ' Sir, Being casually 

April 9, . .... 

1656 at a place where D r Wright was visiting a patient, 
amoungst other discourse one told him shee heard 
his sonne was a sutor to one of your Daughters in 


Suffolk ; whereuppon hee acknowledged there had 
been a motion to that purpose, expressed a very good 
esteeme both of your person and family, and how 
good a carracter my Lady Spring had given him of 
these young Ladies, soe that I see no reason but the 
businesse might succeed if you desire it. The young 
man I doe not know, but I heare so well of him, and 
know so much of his father, that I can say with 
confidence very few in England can have greater 
choyce of greater Fortunes, but money is not the 
thing he cheifly aimes at in his sonnes marriage.' If 
Sir Justinian will settle 5,000/. on his daughter the 
young man is ready to wait upon him at Lamport, 
and then to proceed to Suffolk to court the young 
lady. Sir Ralph had no idea that this aspirant 
had been rejected unseen and unheard three months 
before. The Miss Ishams had determined that the 
son of Cromwell's doctor must be an altogether 
vulgar creature, and a snuffling Puritan ; they 
too announced that ' money was not the thing they 
chiefly aimed at in marriage,' and they induced a 
friend of their father's, Mr. John Stuteville, to write 
their views to him. 

To Sir Justinian Isham. 1 

1 Worthy Sir, Since your last came to my hands, Jan. 12 
I have received reasonable good information concern- 
ing the parties mentioned in your letter, from a Lady 
not farre distant from us, who being with a sister of 

1 This letter, No. 353 of the Isham MSS., is printed by the kind per- 
mission of Sir Charles and Lady Isham. 


hers sicke in London, this last summer had an occa- 
sion offered of more particular notice both of the 
Doctor and his Sonne : shee agrees with you, that 
the ffather is an able man in his way, having had 
long experience and practise in it, and that hee hath 
a very great fortune, but particularly what shee 
knows not : that the Sonne is a tall slender hand- 
some man but somewhat blacke ; Very gallant, but 
civill with all (a quality rare enough in these times) : 
nay more, that hee is Religious too (a thing much 
pretended to, but little practised) : but how farre 
his Religion may goe, whither to Scisme or noe, I 
know not, bat feare the worst, seing the Lady hir 
selfe, who delivered it, is not altogether ffree. I 
should have beene more inquisitive after them from 
hir selfe and others neere us, but that I am com- 
manded from my Lady [Elizabeth, wife of Sir An- 
thony Denton] to let you know, that not with stand- 
ing these abilities, and fortunes in the ffather, not 
with standing all these splendours and civilities in 
the Sonne, yet, that hee is not a fit match for any of 
S r Justinian Isham's daughters, and that not onely 
for that Scruple you make in his Religion, which (as 
it is the greatest tye betweene God and us, soe it 
must bee the greatest betweene husband and wife, 
and with out which there is not that harmony in 
marriage, as is requisite, and therefore) ought very 
much to bee regarded : but for other reasons also to 
bee gathered out of yours as that hee is very curious 
and hard to bee pleased : indeed hee hath beene soe 


inquisitive, as to know of what constitution, com- 
plexion, &c. your daughters are of, as if hee were to 
administer Physicke to them, and that they who 
were to bee his Sonnes wives, were to bee his Patients 
for Ever : Xeither are your daughters his first 
choice, hee hath beene offered to others, and whither 
broke off upon that curiositie of his, or noe, I know 
not. But this is not all, I doe not find in your letter 
or by any relation can I get any thing of his original!, 
and therefore feare hee is but ex plebe, and allied 
perhaps to some neere you that may endeavor and 
further it. Truly S r if hee bee soe, I leave it to 
your selfe to judge, whither hee bee suitable for any 
of them : In these degenerating times, the gentry 
had need to close neerer together, and make a banke 
and bulwarke against that Sea of Democracy which 
is over running them : and to keepe their descents 
pure and untainted from that Mungrill breed, which 
would faigne mixe with them : Wee know there are 
never any aspects accounted of betweene Constella- 
tions and Planets : they are onely among the Planets 
themselves which are in inferior Orbes : there are 
Planets enough in that Spheare hee mooves in, where 
hee may meete with some Venus or other who may 
cast a more favourable aspect upon his Mars or Mer T 
cury, than they are like to do, and with whom beeing 
in Conjunction and especially near Cauda Draconis, 
it may foretell more content and fortunacie in his 
yeare. I know a Gentleman related to your Selfe, 
but a younger Brother and every way farre your 


inferior, who was oflred a very considerable fortune 
with a wife, beyond either his desert or expectation : 
yet because it was with a Physitian's daughter, the 
very thought of y e Blister-pipes did Nauseate his 
Stomacke. And great is the discourse at this very 
time about a Norffok Baronets matching with a 
Doctor of Divinities daughter in Cambridge, and yet 
wee know Divinitie is the highest, as Physicke the 
lowest of Professiones. Your Daughters live con- 
tentedly and happily as they are, and (if they bee 
not burdensome to you, as they are not to my Lady) 
their desire is, not yet to change their condicion, but 
upon greater advantage and preferment, then they 
are like to meete with heere. A farre lesse estate 
with more honour, would better suite them, then soe 
great a one with out gentility : which (to use their 
owne words) they account of but as a guilded Pill, 
guilded in his ffortunes, but bitter in his Extraction. 
Indeed there may bee a great deale of the Politicks 
in it, but there appeares very litle of the (Economicks 
to raise, and constitute a ffamily upon such dispro- 
portioned materials. Thus I have delivered my 
Ladies opinian, which that you may know to bee 
hirs, shee hath signed it with hir owne hand, and to 
testifie my assent, I shall after the tender of due re- 
spects, duty and service to your selfe, Lady, and my 
Cosen Susan subscribe my selfe as I really am, a 
most devoted servant to you all. 




The eldest Miss Isham died a spinster ; the second, 
true to her principles, married a poor knight of irre- 
proachable descent, with an old house and garden ; 
the ambitious Dr. Laurence Wright and his wife died 
soon afterwards, within a few months of each other, 1 
leaving the 'guilded pill' to the sole enjoyment of 
their ample income. William Gape writes to Sir 
Ralph that Lady Hobart ' wants your Doctor in ?t- 9 > 
towne to help him to D r Wright's patients.' 

Dr. Denton's letters are written in a neat, precise 
hand on small paper, they are short and to the point, 
and free from the long-winded compliments of the 
day. His customary ending is ' Vale,' and w r hen he 
has greetings to send he compresses them into three 
words, 'all to all.' 'I alwaies seale with my Armes 
or with Jisculapius,' he says in 1656, when asking 
Sir Ralph to see whether his letters have been opened. 
In the summer of 1653 he had a short but severe 
attack of illness, to the great displeasure and incon- 
venience of the invalids of the family, who were 
accustomed to count upon his professional services 
' as a friend,' as Penelope expressed it, without al- 
ways feeling it incumbent upon them, as Sir Ralph 
did, to press a fee upon his acceptance. Pen's hus- 
band was very ill just when Dr. Denton was laid 
up himself. ' Hee is in great dangour,' wrote his 
wife, ' without it dos pleas god to as wag the sweling; 
it swels soe, and into his throt, that if the surgin 

1 There is a monument to their memory in the Church of South 
Weald in Essex. 


cannot A swag it, I fere it may choke him in a short, 
time ... if I sell my self to my skin, I must go 
a long with my Husband to Oxford and have the 
opinnion of a surgon and a doctor both ; . . . and 
the chargis will be as great to me if I bring them 
horn to Fauler, to give them doble fees, and enter- 
taynment by sides.' 

The Doctor meanwhile was utilising the enforced 
leisure of a fever in a way he would have forbidden 
to any of his patients : he wrote of himself from his 
sick-room as ' an old, old, old man, with a bed-full of 
books.' In August, having shaken off his distemper 
and attended nephew Smith through a critical attack 
of illness, he is preparing to accompany Sir Ralph on 
a journey to Yorkshire about Mrs. Sherard's affairs. 
August 20, ' Deare Ralph, Natt and Doll as they came upp in 


Alisbury coach were robbed on friday at noon day by 
3 sparkes. Nat was the greatest loser for he lost 3 
pounds in gold. Faelix quern faciunt aliena pericula 
cautum. I will carry none therefore, but will expect 
to be supplied by you and Mun. Expect me one day 
next weeke and Kate alsoe flaut taut [flaunting ?] 
with coach and 2 horses, therefore be sure your Byn 
be full, expect your sturgeon and venyson. I had 
gott the py plates and have paid for them but con- 
sulting with the learned minds I have sent to change 

August 25, them, soe you must wait till next weeke.' He is 
i fi^m 

still too weak to ride, and he cannot go 'without 
a tumbrill or a Jumblinge Joanie. ... I have 2 
pittifull horses, but I hope Claydon Commons will 


batten them ... it is high time to be at Yorke, 
therefore I pray pitch uppon Munday sennight to 
begin our march, that we may be there by Thursday 
night, because the Court sits only on Fridaies and 
Satterdaies. Be sure you have bottle beere to comfort 
my hart. . . . Expect a trunke and male and boxe 
and other lumber, which take care of at your perill. 
Commend me to Harry and tell him that if he had 
beene a right Brother of the Bridle, he would have 
given me a particular account of the Cupp at Brackley 
and especially of Mr. Winwood's horse.' 

His letters are generally full of Sir Ralph's March 
money difficulties, but Dr. Denton sometimes appeals 
to him for help in his own. Mr. Mead has called 
upon him for a payment. ' The thinge is much out 
of my noddle,' and I cannot at present finde my 
papers to rectify my plumbrous cerebrosity, I pray 
rubb your cerebellum and looke out my notes and 
your papers and tell me the story and what I shall 
doe in it.' 'I will eyther pronge Mr. Mead till you 
come or get off for half, but I will tugge hard to 
come off, for nee pence noe pence.' 

Sir Ralph has bought a mare of Dr. Denton March 13, 
which was a favourite of fancy's. ' Madcapp saith 
though she sould you the mare, yett she did not 
sell you the colt, therefore she laies her commands 
on you, to midwife it out, and to tittle it upp and 
to bringe it with you in your coach, and then she 
will teach it all her Monkey tricks.' 

In 1654 a case came on in the law courts 


between Sir Ralph and Lady Baltinglas about a 
rabbit warren and the authenticity of a title deed ; 
Oct. 28, the busy Doctor made time to go and hear it. ' I was 
yesterday morninge att your triall, where you had a 
faire hearinge, and what the verdict will be I cannot 
tell, but my opinion is that if it goe for you, you 
have good luck, which was as neare as I could ghesse 
the sence both of the Barre and Bench. The point 
lay in a narrow compasse, viz : whether the Jury 
would beleeve that it was a warren before the patents 
of Edward and Henry ; if they could have such a 
lusty faith, then the jury was to finde for your 
worshipp, but if infidells, and that it was founded in 
the memory of man, (as it was stoutly and I thinke 
truely sworne) then for your adversaries. More 
particulars I leave to William Roades,' who had 
come up to town to give evidence. The Doctor's 
forecast proved a true one ; he writes on the 31st : 
' I was att your great triall yesterday, and heard 
it all throughout ; it lasted till past two in the 
afternoone, and Jury gave their verdict that night 
betimes, which was full and wholy for my Lady 
Baltinglas. The summe of the directions to the 
Jury was that if they found the Deed (by which 
Sir Ralph claimed) fraudulent, then all speciall 
verdicts and moote points were out of doores, and 
then all was hers, if not fraudulent then speciall 
verdicts but I heare the deed is found fraudulent 
and welcome gentlemen. I see Rolls is no favourer 
of fraudulent Conveyances against a purchaser. If 


you will come upp quickly whilst thinges are fresh 
in my head I will tell you more particulars. . . . 
Queen Katherine commands you to sett upp her 
wherry and make hast for she is in great want of 

Among the disastrous ventures undertaken by 
Sir Edmund Verney, he and his family had invested 
money in Yermuyden's scheme for draining the 
Fens. Dr. Denton's letters in 1654 and in the two 
following years refer to this business at intervals. 
' I have not yet done with Mr. Vermuyden : the March 

. . . 1654 

title is under consideration, which at best is like 
to be but an equitable one, yett I am soe fond 
of a good bargaine that I thinke we shall goe on.' 
' Vermuyden and we treat still, this week or the March ie, 
beginninge of the next will I ghesse end it one way 
or other. ... I will try if Mr. Vermuyden will treat 
farther, but I doubt I shall scarce part with mine ; 
you know a foole will not leave his bauble for the 
Tower of London.' In the spring of 1 65 6 the negotia- 
tions are still going on ; ' I am in great Briars about Jan. 24, 

-r- Ifi'lfi 

Vermuyden, he will I find be made a Bankrupt 
within few daies.' ' I want your noddle here, 
for on Satterday next, I am like to be a man or 
a mouse in Vermuyden's affaire whose land will be 
exposed for sale for non payment of taxes and what 
to doe in it I know not in point of purchase or not 
purchase. . . .' 

Sir Ralph replies : ' To D r about his Fen.' ' I Jan. 27, 
see you are in some trouble about Vermuyden's 


businesse. I know not what to say to it for if you 
purchasse of those that sell it for non payment of 
Taxes, perhaps it may mount high, and the title may 
bee subject to a chancery suite, and I doubt y e 
Comissioners will either teare the land from you, or 
make others sharers with you (for doubtless hee may 
bee made a Bankrupt), and if you purchasse not, I 
feare who ever else buys it, will mumpe you of it too. 
Canot Cozen Smith shew him a Trick for his Trick ? 
Some hold it noe deceipt, to deceive a deceiver. 
Well, you understand it best, and can best judge of 
it and what is fittest to bee donn ; if you resolve to 
purchasse you may pawne both mee, and Claydon too, 
to whome you please, and I will come upp to Squeeze 
at a days warning ; . . . hold upp your finger, and 
I come. I long to heare how matters went with 
you.' The doctor writes from Cambridge in June : 
' About my fenne concerne, I would fayne know 
as soone, and as much as I can, for I am weary 
already of this turfey aire and smell. ... If the 
Yermuydens' minds be known at your receipt of this 
... I pray lett me know it, with order to M r Best 
to send a messenger on purpose to me with my lettars, 
if it be not knowne then by Ely carriour, whose 
name is Barkham & Inns att the Bull in Bisshop'gate 
street. He comes in on Thursdaies & goes out on 
Fridaies ; direct to me there [Ely] at the Bell where 
June so, I intend to stay till Munday next.' ' Hearing^ 

1656 . J 

nothinge from that monster of men, that is all 
tounge & noe hands to write, nor feet to walk 


hither, I take it for granted that there is nothinge to 
be done with Yermuyden, by which meanes, I am 
putt uppon a great straight for present money, & 
that a good summe . . . the Croppe is downe & 
will be lost if I gett not money presently ... I 
have bought a coach mare here.' After receivino- Sir 

o o 

Ralph's answer he writes a^ain : ' I cannot i ustly Jul y 10, 

J J 1656 

say what pennies I shall want as yett till I see what 
Vermuyden will doe, but I ghesse 200/. besides what 
you owe will be the least.' He speaks of 'the 
great importunity of my Ladie Yermuyden late that 
night, not to passe any estate till uppon another 
treaty with me.' ' I was on Friday with my Lord Jul y !3, 
Deputy [Fleetwood] about the Fens. I offered him 
the Cole seeds for 5,300/., but there's not a Id. of 
money to be had, and Vermuyden doth nothing but 
Juggle, and I must be content to loose it every seed, 
soe I thinke to fall on the bones of father and 
sonne.' ' At our Fenn Clubb last night (which is N y- 13, 
every Wenesday evenings), we have certain intelli- 
gence from Mr. Gorge our superintendent (for which 
he hath 500Z. per annum and is on the place), that 
the waters run 18 inches under soyle, there's a 
Rowland for your Oliver. I have otherwise con- 
veyed the Fenns and sold them to Mun [Denton] 
and taken his bond for 2,OOOZ. and noe trust exprest 
betweene us.' ' Raph Yerney, Sir, my humble Duty Feb - 26 > 
remembered to you. An Epistolary preface, not 
I confesse al mode de France mais de Fenns, such 
a learned office have I now gott there, but lett 


that passe. ... I am sorry you were disappointed 
of pennies, A precious Commodity here, & much 
wanted here of all. I bought on Wednesday 400 
Acres more of Fenland for 300 It was sold for non 
payment of > taxes by the Adventurers, & I must 
borrow all the money to pay for it.' 
March 5, Dr. Denton speaks again of the land he had 

If "7 

bought and sold in the Fens, from Mr. Stanley and 
Mr. Crave, and how he has lost on each trans- 
action, though he 'had it double and treble in 

July 4, highe acknowledgements, fine ayry things.' ' My 
Lord Fleetwood assaults me might & maiiie for 
Vermuyden, all the engines he could mount hath 
not yett removed me from my old Basis & resolution 
of a Release first & there wee stick at present.' 
' I want you here grievously to goe with me to my 
L d Deputy who alwaies hath Sir John Pettus to 

August 27, assist him.' ' I never had more need ofaYulpone 1 

1 &fi 

then in this affair.' Dr. Denton's appeal to Fleet- 
July 20, wood had not, however, been in vain. ' I have gott 
Vermuy den's lease,' he writes, ' my Lord Deputy 
ended it, but soe contrary to young Yermuyden's 
mind, that my Lord sent the next day to have had 
it againe. Butt its enrolled & I am going to fetch it 
from thence, & I desired his excuse soe I hope I and 
mine may be quiett.' 

In August 1657 ' Vermuyden still plaies his 

1 ' To the King's house, there to see Vulpone (Ben Jonson's 
comedy), a most excellent play, the best, I think, I ever saw.' 
Pepys' Diary, Jan. 14, 1665. 


tricks, but ' he hath a cur by the eares ' ; the Doctor 
wonders that ' Never soe many Artifices, traps and 
snares,' should be ' used to catch a simple phismicary, 
and yett he walks alone & upright.' 

The Doctor, not having enough to do, turned his 
attention to farming his Fenlands. He finds the Fens 
in October 1658 less sickly than the high country. 
' I doubt whether I have any oats (though my next 
neighbours have) so good as to yeeld 17* a quarter ; 
they are to make oatmell. My man told me I had 
60 load well ended ... I can hardly be reasoned out 
of a dayry, I am sure that must yeeld somethinge 
every day Any other way of mannaginge of it I must 
run the hazard of a foole & a knave & this way I only 
hazard the knave, & if I can gett him that I am 
about, I shall be very confident of his honesty.' 
' Accordinge to what Brassit made for himselfe 
by his owne confession & by demonstration, 5 Cowes 
made in 2 daies 15 Ibs of cheese which he sold for 4 d 
the Ib. which is 6 d per diem a Cow, besides the advan- 
tage of whay, & what was taken in the house, which 
must make 12* or 20 s an acre rent. I know you would 
be glad to be rid of some of your poore tenants, & 
if you have any that are honest & industrious, I will 
stock them at my charge with 10 or 20 Cowes, soe 
they will give me 2* a Cowe a weeke, but I beleeve, I 
might gett reasonable well at 18 d the week & soe my 
man hath profered inee.' 

But even Dr. Denton's energy could not suffice 
to carry on a dairy business in the Fens, and a 



town practice at the same moment, and after a 
short experience of both he was obliged to own 
that he was as weary as could be of ' stockinge and 
plowinge & daryinge,' and that if he could get others 
to rent his cows ' they shall dary & not I.' ' Queen 
Katherine ' complains at intervals that ' the Doctor 
is gon to the Fenes, to try if he can get another 

In the autumn of 1654, and during the greater 
part of 1655, Dr. Denton and Sir Ralph had a family 
sorrow and anxiety which touched both of them 
nearly. Of all those who had suffered in the Verney 
family by the disruption of home ties, perhaps Sir 
Edmund's younger girls, Mary and Betty, were the 
most to be pitied. Without the careful training of 
their parents, or the advantages of education and 
society which their elder sisters had enjoyed, they had 
grown up in such unsettled and troublous times that 
the shelter of his roof and the protection of their 
mother's housekeeper was all that their elder brother 
could give them during his exile. His wife was in- 
clined to regard them with some severity ; their cease- 
less and thoughtless demands upon their brother 
roused her displeasure, and the want of breeding and 
refinement, which was their worst misfortune, offended 
her taste and her high standard of decorum. Mary 
she described as the plainest of the six girls, and 
' extream clownish,' but with a good deal of clever- 
ness and good-nature. The married sisters did their 
best for them, but Pen was too poor, and Margaret's 


husband too ill-tempered, to entertain them long. 
They stayed with Gary Gardiner, and at Claydon 
after Sir Ralph's return, though he refused to let them 
live with him altogether, as he was going up and 
down to his bachelor lodgings in London, and he 
wished his sisters to be under the care of an older 
woman. He had been diligently corresponding with 
various friends about marriages for them, but up to 
this time with indifferent success. 

' Gary hopes to match Moll to one about 50 ; his Oct - 9 > 

loo -L 

wife was Lady Ayres who died last yeare. Gary told 
him Sir Ralph would allow Mall 60 p r annum during 
her life.' But this not very attractive match had 
Mien through. Mary had lived to the age of five- 
and- twenty without being specially necessary to any- 
one, she was perpetually scolded and admonished, 
little sympathised with or understood. We learn, 
therefore, with less wonder and indignation than her 
relations did, and more of sorrowing pity, that she 
loved ' not wisely but too well ' the first man who 
singled her out for love and admiration. Mary had 
been ailing, and the Doctor, with the kindness he 
always showed to his sister's children, invited her 
to his house in London. The visit was a long one, 
and Sir Ralph received accounts of her health from 
the Doctor, from Mr. Gape, and from Robert Lloyd, 
who was on a footing of friendship and intimacy in 
both houses. She was undergoing the severe medical 
treatment then in fashion ; Dr. Denton writes : Jan. 19, 

1 (* -" 1 

* Mall began to speake about 2 of the clock on 


Thursday morning and is bettar than she was ; she 
hath not yett the command of opening her mouth, 
but lispeth in her speech and if a little gagge (which 
she keepes betweene her teeth) slip out, she hath 
much ado to open her mouth againe.' She recovered 
from this sickness, but as time went on Dr. Denton 
became uneasy as to the cause of Mary's continued 
ill-health and depression of spirits, and it was 
doubly painful to him to reflect that her acquaint- 
ance with Robert Lloyd had been formed under his 
own roof. The Doctor did his best to shelter the 
unfortunate girl, and to keep her secret, but he was in 
grave anxiety about it. An Act of great severity had 
recently been passed, by which Mary, as she well 
knew, was liable to public exposure and imprison- 
ment, and trials for such offences were actually going 
on at that time. Katherine Denton and Mary Gape, 
who seem to have been substantially kind to her, 
were the last women from whom reticence could be 
expected. The anxious Doctor writes to Sir Ralph : 
9> ' The ugly affaire multiplies new occasions of sorrow 
and mischiefe, wherein I have none of the least share, 
it soe unhappily fallinge out that those that have had 
relation to me should be both the occasion and trum- 
peters of it. It is now fallen into as ill a mouth as 
spite could have placed it, and it makes mee at my 
witt's end to thinke of it. I wish you had beene here 
sooner that if possible we might have thought of some 
new contrivance to have posted her away. ... I 
cannot imagine what can be done.' Various plans 


were discussed for Mary to go to Ireland, and even to 
' the Barbadoes,' but eventually a quiet lodging was 
found for her in London, where Dr. Denton and the 
Gapes looked after her. and Sir Ralph paid her ex- 
penses. Her sisters, who were deeply shocked and 
pained, were harsh and angry, and Tom and Henry 
were loud in condemning her ; Tom was at the same 
time blustering about his determination to vindicate 
his sister's honour, when the only service he could 
render her was to hold his tongue. Sir Ralph was 
kinder and more considerate ; he did not find Moll 
easy to manage ; she was too unhappy to be reasonable ; 
but she showed some courage and resolution. ' The 
best I can expect,' she wrote to Sir Ralph, 'is to be 
brought in to a very low condisshon . . . but I have 
a harte that will gooe throw a grett dell of paine ; I 
am inhoope that I may over come it all ; it will ether 
mende mee or ende mee.' On her recovery she was 
anxious to assert her independence. Mr. Gape wrote : 
' Shee pretends now att this extremity to serve a lady March 22, 
and sayth she hath a place ready. I tell her when 
shee knowes y e misery and hardship of service shee 
will better value a brother's affection. She sayth shee 
cannot live without R. what ever shee endures. I 
asked her how could shee enjoy him in service. Shee 
sayth it shall bee a place where shee may often see 
and hear from him.' Dr. Denton was always plead- 
ing her cause with Sir Ralph, but he thought Mary 
had no right after his past kindness ' to rant and 
stand upon termes.' ' I have some thoughts of 


visiting her,' he wrote, ' to give her a rattle for her 
rant, but am not yett resolved.' 

Poor Mary found the bread of dependence quite 

as bitter as the apothecary had foretold, and she soon 

April 11, appealed to Sir Ralph again : ' Brother tell now I 


nevir knew what it was to earne my Leving but now 
I doe, for I have not hade a bitt to eate tell I have 
worckeded furst for it. ... Brother as I have de- 
sarved harde youseg [usage] so I have receved. . . . 
Now my earnest request to you is that you will please 
to lett mee know whether you will alow mee a Lively 
hoode or no. ... I hade not a shue to ware tell I 
did earne a pare. ... I know some that dooe dailey 
eatte at y r tabell have as 111 desarved y 1 relefe as I 
have, and in theare carieg have binne as onvrorthy, 
but they have fownde more frindeshipe then I can ; 
Bro : you hade dellt more charatabeller with mee to 
a layed the exstremitey of the law againest mee att 
the fust, then to a releveded mee for the present and 
to suffer mee to starve now. . . . Good Brother doo 
by mee as if you ware In want you woulde be dellte 
by ; for thoues that will not show marcey most 
exspetke non, and thoues that will not for give will 
never bee forgeven, and thoues that doo Leade there 
Lives best, doo neede marcey and forgiveness, so I 
hope you will dealle by mee as you desier god 
May 1655 w ill dealle by you and yours.' ' If you will not 
please to relive mee I most to Claydon, and if I doo 
periesh it shalle bee att your dooare ... for I can- 
not Live by the are. ... I am confieydent that 


your doges eatte that as I would be glade of.' Sir 
Ralph gave her the allowance she asked for. 

Mary Yerney and Robert Lloyd were married 
on November 2, 1655, ' in Paddington Church by 
Anthony Dod the Minister,' and the later chapters of 
her life, so far as we know them, were better and 
happier than this early one. 

We have another glimpse of the Doctor's home 
life, in 1658. He was suddenly attacked with 
illness in the beginning of March ; his wife was 
terribly alarmed and wrote, as everybody else did 
in trouble, to desire Sir Ralph to come to her 
immediately. ' It is now 3 of the Clocke in the 
morning and I have bin up all this night with the 
D r . he hath had a most violent fitt and sick unto 
Death and burns like any fire, and what will itt 
come to, the Lorde he knoweth. To have him thus 
sicke and noe freinds about mee, makes rnee att my 
witts end to know which way to turne my selfe ; 
therefore I shall begg the favour of you that you 
will come to mee ; for he is so unable to beare this 
Illnesse, that I feare it may come to a worse effect.' 
The letter was sent from London to Middle Claydon 
addressed ' I pray send this away with all the Speed 
you can' ; it arrived ' neare 11 at night,' some 18 
hours after its despatch. Sir Ralph was of course 
greatly disturbed, but before he could reach town 
the acute symptoms had subsided, and the Doctor 
was rating his wife soundly for troubling him, ' very March 5, 
small matters putt her beyond her sences, & you 


are not to obey her in those cases . . . you have 
oblidged me by your readines ... of which I was 
as well satisfied before, but I doe not love to give 
trouble unnecessarily for it was plainely an agew.' 
As soon as he was a little better he was quite 
beyond 'Queen KatherineV control ; he had '5 fitts' 
but he would ' go abrode every day, his fitt days & 
all others alike ' ; he was attending Lady Fairfax 
daily, ' who is now upon the recovery ' ; and to Sir 
Ralph's anxious remonstrances he would only reply 
* my agew is gone, God make me thankful . . . when 
you have obeyed my wife as longe as I have done, 
you may then learne to be wiser.' 




Stone walls do not a prison make, 

Nor iron bars a cage ; 
Minds innocent and quiet take 

That for a hermitage. LOVELACE. 

SIR RALPH felt but little sympathy with the members 
whom Cromwell ejected from the House of Commons 
in April 1 653 ; he had neither forgiven nor forgotten 
his own expulsion indeed, the Long Parliament, 
which he and his father had entered with such high 
hopes in 1640, had dwindled to a remnant ; ' there 
were none to praise, and very few to love.' 

Sir Roger makes merry over its successor, ' the July 11, 
supreme Authority now named a Parliament,' and 
Sir Ralph writes to Cousin Spencer of its doom : 
' Our famous Parl : being conscious of theire owne P- 16 


weaknesse dissolved them selves (because they could 
not helpe it) the Major part then present went with 
theire Speaker to White Hall, & there by a Wrighting 
resigned up their authority into the Generall's hands, 
who questionlesse will make far better use of it than 
they have donn. Some of them were willing to sit 


longer, but they could not, as the reste were not of 
theire minde. What way of government shall bee 
now prescribed, is not yet knowne, some talk of a 
counsel] of 10, others of 21, and a Lord protector 
who shall have a Negative Voyce, but all these are 
yet guesses, for we have noe Declaration, nor know 
any thing certainely more then the counsell of officers, 
sit constantly & long, soe that there is greate hope of 
a speedy and a better settlement.' 

Dr. Denton writes the next summer in the midst 

of the excitement caused by the execution of Don 

July 20, Pantaleone Sa for the murder of a citizen. ' The 


Portugall Embassador tooke pett, the same day his 
Brother was beheaded and went to Graves Eride 
without taking any leave of the Protector.' 

But while maintaining the honour of England 
against foreign powers the Protector was exposed to 
plots at home worthy of modern anarchists ; Charles 
being not ashamed to offer a great reward to anyone 
who should kill ' a certain mechanic fellow, by name 
Oliver Cromwell, by pistol, sword, or poison.' The 
extreme republicans threatened danger from the 
opposite side of the political compass, and in his 
failure to get a parliament to work with him Crom- 
well, who of all men was most anxious to sheathe 
the sword, and return to constitutional methods, 
was driven back upon a purely military govern- 
ment. England was divided into eleven districts under 
as many major-generals, who exercised police juris- 
diction and levied a 10-per-cent. tax on the fortunes 


of all who had served the King, to pay the expense 
of keeping order. Backs was under the command of 
the ' Lord Deputy ' Charles Fleetwood. Sir Ralph 
writes : ' I confess I love Old England very well, but 
as things are carried heere the gentry cannot joy 
much to bee in it.' Colonel Henry Verney's letters 
during; 1654 and 1655 are a curious contrast to his 


brother's : ; the gentry ' that he lived amongst cared 
little for politics, but endeavoured by hunting, racing, 
and gambling to relieve the dulnessof the Puritan rule, 
and Cromwell's son and son-in-law seem to have been 
amongst them. Henry is visiting ' my Lady Cuttings 
at Tustinge,' and at ' Sir Richard Shugboroughs, a 
good friend's house.' He writes to his brother from 
Thrusten ' : 'I cannot send you any newse, more Feb. 1655 
then what company came here, the last night unex- 
pected, to hunt the fox for a weeke. My Lord 
Cro'well [query Richard Cromwell], my Lord 
Claypole, my Lord Sands, my Lord Deleware, Sir 
William Kingsmill, Sir Hue Middleton, and divers 
other gentlemen. It is soe darke that I cannot see 
to write -a word more, then to tell you, wee keepe ill 
hours, and lead a lude life, which is noe way pleasinge 
to me.' ' Tell Harry,' writes Dr. Denton, ' he had ^gj 1 2 - 
better keepe his money and lay it out on some of my 
Lord Duke [of Richmond] 's horses, then loose it to 
fooles and bunglers.' 

When Sir Ralph is in the thick of his political 
troubles and anxieties, Henry is on a round of visits. 
He writes how cousin Smith ' would not let mee 13 ' 


wagg, but must stay to keepe Mr. Haile company 
(though logdinge is Pretious). ... He is like to 
have his house and stables full for neare this 3 
mounths as I doe heare, for what with the six coach 
horses, and outher naggs, and doggs it is well fill'd. 7 
' I have bine att Stowe neere this weeke, and 
have waighted on S r Richard daley to the forrest, 
and had good sport, but ill fortune with my dogg 
Hector, for the first course a did run their, a was 
spoyld in a battle with a bucke, never dogg gott 
more credit, the combate held neare halfe an hower, 
afore 20 of us, and all we could doe, could neither 
save dog nor kill the deare, though wee had severall 
times hold of him, it was forty to one I had not let 
out S r Richards gutts, loosinge his hold att his 
homes', my lord Claypoll seeinge the mettle & 
greate couradge the dog had after recevinge five stuck 
deepe wounds, would not bee deney 'd the dog to breede 
one, soe, much against my will, I was forst to present 
him, by his lordship's surgons greate care the dog 
may live to run againe, his greateness is more fond 
of him than ever I was, which does not a little please 
me.' Three weeks later he writes again : ' Our hun- 
tinge att the forrest is now done, and his lordshipp 
gone, and my dogg Hector like to doe well again, S r 
William Farmer att the killinge of his three staggs 
entertainde the whole company for tow dayes noblely, 
1 dare say it cost him att the lest 100. . . My cousin 
Smith treated his honour att a dinner hansomely ; 
feastinge of late I have had plentifully but never 


hartely merey for want of your company.' Aunt 
Ishanri, though she dearly loves a little gambling, is 
quite worn out ; Henry made them so late every night 
at Hillesden ; ' he will never give one over as Longe as 
one is able to sit up.' Sir Ralph had presented her with 
' a paire of sable Brasletts, for you may weare them 
at Play, which you cannot doe your muffe, and these 
may possibly save you from many colds this winter.' 
Sir Ralph was in more congenial society : he 
paid a quiet visit in August 1654 to his devoted 
friends Yere, Lady Grawdy, and Dorothy Leeke who 
was installed as her companion, at Croweshall. He 
and Sir Nathaniel Hobart travelled back together and 
had many misadventures by the way, but as Sir 
Nathaniel has sent * the whole story to my Lady,' 
writes Sir Ralph to Doll, ' for me to undertake it 
after him, were farre worse then to write Myrza after 
Denhani.' ! Sweet Doll, to whom Claydon had been 
such a happy home in the old days, might not have 
been unwilling to fill the vacant chair on the other 
side the fire. They were on the old happy terms of 
intimacy, but Sir Ralph's letters probably meant 
more to the woman who received them, than to the 
man who wrote them, and through all her banter 
there runs a vein of tender and pathetic sentiment. 

1 Mirza was the hero of Sir John Denham's play of The Sophy, 
* acted at the Private House, in Blackfriars, by His Majesty's servants' 
in 1641, when Sir Ralph and Lad}' Gawdy had doubtless seen it. 
The piece was so much admired that Waller said of the author : ' He 
broke out like the Irish rebellion, threescore thousand strong, when 
nobody was aware, or in the least suspected it.' 


' If I could quarrel with you for anything,' he wrote 
to Doll after his visit to Croweshall, ' it should bee 
for the compliments in your letter. I thought you 
had knowne me and loved me better, than to use me 
with soe much cerimony. I pray let your next bee 
May 31, in a more friendly straine.' ' 'Tis now the new 


fashion for May dens in town to ride a Pick Pack ; 
you ever loved to follow the mode. I wish you'would 
try it now to Claydon or if you like any other way 
better take your owne choyce, please your selfe, for 
soe you come, you shall most certainly please mee/ 

Jan. 27, 'I know your old deare friend Mr. London,' he 
writes again, ' findes you such a variety of entertaine- 
ments that you have not leasure to cast your thoughts 
on Claydon, but least I should be quite forgot, give 
these lines leave to visit you in my absence. ... I 
now meant to have writ to Cozen Hobart but church is 
halfe done already, therfore I must needes intreate 
you to beg her pardon for me.' 

April 23, ' Consider what you have lost,' Doll writes of the 

marriage of an heiress, ' for not asking the question 
. . . but you are difficult to be plesed and it must be 
half don before you speak, I pray let me court your 
mistres (I will make a journy a pourpos) I know 
your yumur so well, that I have no fear but to pleas 
you . . . you could not have spent your time more 
charitably if I may be your j udg, then in righting a 
letter of so much variety to me, it hath much revived 
my sperits, the lose of your company & the rest of 
my frinds hath made me to retire into my self, thus I 


have spent much of my time in thought . . . but I 
resolve to forget you all & get out of this ugly 
yumur, for fear I grow lean. The hope of Aunt 
Verney's legesy made me think of an other jorney to 
Loundon, that I might spend it hansomly, but senc 
she meanes to live, I am not without fear that you 
may supplant me in hir favor.' 

' Sweet Cozen,' he replies, ' your request is granted, April 28, 
when I come at a Mistris, you shall court her for me ; 
noe person that I know can doe it with more addresse 
& cuning, and I am sure you love your friendes 
soe well, that (haveing undertaken it) you will per- 
forme it with noe less fidelity then affection. But, 
alas, the maine thing, A Mistris is yet wanting, I have 
been fumbling soe many yeares with soe ill successe, 
that unlesse you find one out, I am not like to speed 
in that ; therfore I pray thinke well of it, and assure 
your selfe, if she bee but rich enough, & old enough 
she canot but bee wise enough and good enough for me.' 

Doll pays him back his jest with spirit. ' The 
character you have given me of your Mistris, assures 
me that you will not ingadj me, only you resovle to 
be sivell, and I will be so to ; and leave you to your 
one chois, with this wish that you may be as happi 
as you deserve.' If the cruel adjective 'rich ' seemed 
purposely to exclude herself, Doll had at least the 
consolation of seeing that the wealthy and charming 
widow Dame Vere Gawdy did not advance a step 
nearer to the position which, as her friends believed, 
she also felt herself eminently qualified to adorn. 


Sir Ralph's most finished and elaborate compli- 
ments are reserved for his letters to Lady Gawdy, and 
she is not to be outdone in civilities, though she may 
lament that she can only express herself ; so exactly 
like a Suffolke Cloune . . . yet in my harte,' she 
says, ' you shall bee treated as I would bee in heaven.' 
Her love of building makes Croweshall ' as durty as 
Claydon without dors,' and Doll assures Sir Ralph 
that he may fancy himself ' at home in earnest ' ; he 
sends Lady Gawdy all kinds of plants, from water- 
cress to ' cedar berries,' hoping she may live to see 
the cedars out-top her tallest oaks. 

' Sir, I kis your hands for the Seders, your favour 
only can make this place capable of such greatnes, 
but if they should not prosper they will mis of so 
gratefull a Soile as the harte of, sir, your obleged 
humble sarvant, VERE GAWDY.' 

Lady Gawdy's fortune and her expectations were 
the subject of many merry letters between them. 
f5ept. 3, i Madame, give me leave I beseech you, to give you 
joy of the greate Wealth thats coming towards you ; 
hi earnest you are now thought one of the Richest 
Widdowes in England, for since the Death of Lady 
Clerke, we heare Mrs. Daniel! hath publiquely de- 
clared she hath none but you and Yours to care for. 
Were I now at Liberty I would make suite to 
bee your cash keeper, however if your Baggs 
are rotten with rusty gold or not bigg enough to 
hold it all, let me but know it, and a Dozen or 
two of Leather Meale Baggs shall be immediately 

jraui a ba (nJinya/ (rtrtudtm C/L<ru*tt.. 


provided, and sent downe by, Madame, Your humble 

' Sir,' replies the lady, ' I doe experiment the 
fallshood of fame severely, for if the kindness of the 
parson did answer the report, twould bee noe diffi- 
culty to inclose my welth in the crasiest bags I have, 
& if it were exposed to vew I should not neede a 
gaurd to secure it ; the esteme of my freinds is A 
welth I onlycovitt, and yourselfe may assure a most 
vallewable share of it to Sir, Your most obleged 
sarvant, VERB GAWDY.' 

On the other hand it was one of Sir Ralph's con- 
stantly recurring duties to find safe investments for 
Doll's modest savings. ' If Sir Richard Temple will 
morgage Land for soe small a summe,' he writes, ' I j u ne 25, 
beleeve it may bee good security. . . . Lawyers are 
the propper and indeed the only judges of matters 
concerning Titles, but of the integrity of those with 
whome you deale, you or I, perhapps may know as 
much as they. Had I money of my own to Lend, 
the cheifest thing that I should looke uppon, should 
bee the honour, & honesty of the Person to whome 
I lent it, for beleeve me Cosen, the silliest soule, that 
will allow himselfe to play the knave, may easily cheate 
the craftiest Councellour about the Towne. Dick 
Winwood & Jack Dormer are borrowers of Money, 
but give noe Land security, unlesse for greater 
summs then yours, had either of them any money of 
mine, I should think it as well-placed as with the 
Mayor and all the Aldermen of London.' 



There was a report early in 1655 that Sir Ralph 
Jan. is, had been arrested, and Dr. Denton writes : ' This 

1 / t c 

is to lett you know that you are in the tower, gett 
out as well as you can, Verney for Vernham hath 
March 15 caused the rumor & mistake.' ' Here is newes more 
1655 ' than is true in abundance. That that is most gene- 
rally received is that S r Joseph WagstaiFe cum multis 
aliis is up in the West, seized Judge Rolls & others 
& all theire horses & money at Salisbury. That S r 
Richard Mauleverer is upp in the north & en- 
deavoured the seizinge of York Castle etc. There is 
much talking of risinge in divers other countries 
w ch I had rather beleeve then goe to see. ... I 
ghesse there will be a generall settlement of the 
militia in all counties, & a generall securinge, & 
though I dare be a compurgator for Claydon & 
Hillesdon & Ratley that you have neyther head nor 
purse in the rebellious designe, yett the names are 
malignant & that will goe far in prudence. Verbum 
March 24, sapienti sat : tell Mun so much, Vale.' ' I heare 

1 (teK 

the rebell cavaliers are defeated in the West, some 
kild, some taken, & not many left togeather.' . . . 

April 5, ' Thorpe, Glyn, & Steele are to goe westward to 
try the late Rebells ; Pen Ruddock & the Jones, 
are come to towne to be tryed or examined or what 
you please.' 

In the midst of these public anxieties the trees 
that Sir Ralph had ordered from Holland kept 

March 22, arriving. Dr. Denton writes : ' I wish y u had beene 


behind the hangings just now to heare the Romance, 


Lady Gaudey, Doll, & I made, they of their trees & 
I of my trees. They writt last night but 13 letters 
about them, & scolded betweene whiles to boot, & all 
for feare of miscarriage & disappointm* & I gave 
them a Rowland for their Oliver, & summe was you 
must pay for all our follies, & soe we might be merry 
the cheaper/ ' I do not see how it was possible April 2, 
the trees [should] escape bruisinge. They were too 
bigge to be bound up in any number. They were 
brought over single, & amongst bottles, a layer of 
trees & a layer of bottles (which would not defend 
them over warily) the shipping & unshipping & often 
loading & unloading of them must of necessity bruise 
them very much. I hope the Abeele trees will make 
you an amends.' Their arrival at Claydon is 
delayed and Sir Ralph writes : The ' advertisement 
came in pudding-time, 1 for to morrow the cart was 
to set forwards but upon this I have stayed it till 

Many of Sir Ralph's friends were supporting 
the Government : Fiennes had been made Lord 
Keeper, Sir Roger wished for a place as Groom of 
the Stole, Nat. Hobart was hoping for a Mastership 
in Chancery, and Sir Richard Temple for a place 
in the ' Protector's Court.' He also talked of going 
to Jamaica, but this came to nothing, as Dr. Den- 
ton had foreseen. ' Sir Rich : Temple's purport of 

1 I.e. in the nick of time. 

' When George in pudding- time came o'er 
And moderate men looked big.' The Vicar of Bray. 


goinge for gold is 1,000 times bettar than holdinge 
of a trenchar, but I doubt lie loves sleepinge in a 
whole skin to well to goe that iourney.' 

Penelope Denton was in bitter trouble. A law- 
suit was pending between her husband and his 
mother. Sir Ralph took infinite trouble about it 
for Pen's sake only, as he thought ' The Squire ' ' a 
March 16, beast.' In March John Denton is in prison at the 

I KK -*- 

Castle in Oxford for debt, and Pen is ' almost brought 
to deths dore : . . . this 3 days I have not eate more 
then a mess of milk & a negg ; my one seller beare 
is to strong for me to drink. I must sell myself to my 
sking. goods & all to defray this great chargis.' . . . 
' The sheriff & gaolers' fees cost 8 or IQL & their 2 
April e, cows have to be sold.' ' Brother no creatur that 


beggs from dore to dore can live in A mener condish- 
tion then I do. Had my Good father or mother A 
Lived I am confident it would A greved there harts 
to a sene or hard of my greate strats.' 

A man-servant of John Denton's was ' a great 
vilin,' Pen writes, ' & had sayd that of me to his 
master that he could not mak good. The good 
lady at Ditchley & Sir Harry & his Lady was with 
me when I was ill, & I did one [own] soe much 
trouble to my Lady, which was no more then my 
looks did betray me in ; that both herself & Sir 
Harry did tak upon them to tell my husband that if 
he did not kick the fellow out of dors, no gentilman 
but would scorne to keep him company, thos words 
of those parsons did work so much upon my husband 


that with my paying him his hold years wages, I 
thank God he is gon from us both.' 

While Sir Ralph was about Pen's affairs an 
urgent request came from Gary that he would stand 
godfather to an expected baby, early in April, as she 
would ' unwillingly kepe a child long unbaptized.' 
John Stewkeley, who desired a man's society during 
his ' gander-month,' wrote heartlessly : ' S r , My Fet> L 26, 
Lady. ... & I are ambitious of y r Company 
here this spring, that you may observe the melody 
her crying out, & the singing of the Xitingale will 
make together . . . shee will earnestly expect your 
coming, which will bee noe less acceptable to her 
then the midwife ; I desire you would bring my 
namesake, the Winton Scholler [one of his own 
boys] will bee proud of his aquaintance. If you 
have not better Conveniency, here are choice of 
Coaches now, for the South hampton Coachman hath 
sett up another one w th 6 horses, by Hoburn bridge, 
at the Rose or King's Armes . . . there is another 
sett up lately in Winchester.' Sir Ralph promised 
to be with them, but when John Stewkeley wrote to 
announce the birth of a girl ' which after 2 boyes is 
very acceptable,' he was still detaioed by the Dentons' 
lawsuit. ' One side is soe needy that a little will not 
serve theire turne ; & the other side is so hide bound 
that they will part with nothing thats considerable. 
Pen is soe importunate & passionate for my stay, that 
I know not how to leave her at this nick of time/ 
wrote Sir Ralph, willing to disoblige the sister he 


loved best, rather than abandon the one most uncon- 
genial to him in her time of need. He therefore ap- 
May is, pealed to Aunt Isham at Preshaw to be his proxy. 

1 CKff 

' Heertofore you know you have worne Breeches for 
mee, & now if you please to put them on againe & 
christen my little neece, I shall take it for a very greate 
May 23, favour.' ' All though I be not so youthfull as I was 
hearetofor,' she replied, ' to put one Briches, yett I have 
my Husbonde heare as shall be att youre sarvis, and 
this will be the seconde time as he is to Ancere for 
you, & you can doe noe lese then say as the Papeses 
used to say to one the other : Say so many Prayeres 
for me today, & I will say as many for you tomorroe.' 
She pretends to think that another cause keeps him 
in town. ' Now for your widderes. ... I say to 
you be grave & wise, & doe not lett these Riche 
widdows floter so aboute you, chache none of 
them. Thus we could be mery if we met att many 
thinges, but now I must ende againste my seckes 
thinking as nothing will satisfies us but our one 

In the same merry vein, but with real regret, 
John Stewkeley wrote : ' Though your letter began 
comically . . . yet the consequence was tragicall & 
produced sad effects in your sisters, for itt putt 
them into such a fitt of weeping, that seriously the 
suddain news of a Dying freend could not bee 
attended with greater lamentation. . . . Had you 
consulted with your charity it would have prevailed 
above those magick spells, & prevented the shed- 


ding of those tears ... or had you consulted with 
your honour, it would sure have brought you hither 
after so many engagements under your hand to per- 
forme a Christian duty ... it hath cast a suddain 
dampe on the mirth wee all had here, being elevated 
with the daily hope of seeing you ; therefore I must 
now invert my usuall expression of being not only 
your passionately affectionate, but your affectionately 
passionate brother & serv* Joh : Stewkely.' 

Sir Ralph had sufficient sense of humour to enjoy 
his own jokes, but it seldom reached to those of other 
people. He was detained in town, partly by Gary's 
own affairs, for he was trying to get the jointure 
to which she was entitled from Cuddesdon out of 
her mother-in-law, old Lady Gardiner, almost as 
tough a customer as the Denton dowager. He 
was tired and harassed ; the jeers about fluttering 
widows seemed very ill-timed, and he wrote back 
with less than his usual courtesy and sweet temper. 
' I thought it utterly impossible my kindnesse, May 25, 
charity & honour should all be caled in question for 
doeing that which (being well considered) could 
neither in kindnesse, charity nor honour bee well 
declined. ... I shall take heed how I engage myselfe 
in any businesse but my owne : & therefore I have 
now sent all the Papers about Cudsdon to the Sol- 
licitour . . . least if heerafter any other sister should 
send for mee, I might not bee at Liberty to attend, 
& therby (though very undeservedly) occation a new 
action of unkindnesse to be brought against me.' 


Happily, he was too much beloved at Preshaw for 
his letter to give offence. John Stewkely apologised 
handsomely, and said that ' his wife's grief had been 
such that a gentlewoman told him . . . that of her 
knowledge a Lady died of noe other sickness.' 

The plots and the arrests continued ; Mrs. Isham 

June writes : ' Moste of our Gentre is secured and took to 
Oxford. S r Jhon: Eire Lase[Borlase],Lord Loues [?], 
Lord Folkle : [ ? Falkland] att Ox. all : ; Lorde Line- 
say thay have bine with, but the Lorde Camdine come- 
ing a suter to his Dafter he is Lett alone a while, and 
whate to thinke of my Hus : I knowe not, Nothing 
they can have against him I knowe and wheather I 
had best sende him out of the way I know not, for 
none knowes whate these be had away for, itt may 
be all your cases. . . . My cays [keys] be all loste 
& I have no more paper.' 

Mun is clamouring to return to England, to which 
he feels himself quite a stranger, he is at the Hague 
with good introductions, having wound up with Dr. 
Creighton. Sir Ralph answers him in a severe mood. 

June 11, ' I have now received yours & in it a direction for 

1 ere * 

my letters to you, but soe lame & soe ill English & 
nonesence that I am ashamed to write it. " For M r 
Edmund Verney at M r Bates in the signe of the Sam- 
son in die Pots in den Hagh." You should have 
said " At M r Bates his House or Shopp or Lodging," 
or some such like place, or tis not good English. 
Secondly In the signe of the Sampson is nonsence, it 
should have beene At the Signe ; your very French 


Phrase might teach you to write better sence, and 
English too, but that you are soe carelesse that you 
minde nothing. Tis noe less a wonder then a trouble 
to me to see that at neare nineteen yeares of age 
(though noe care, nor cost hath beene wanting for 
your Breeding) you are not yet able to write a super- 
scription of a letter. For shame, bee not still thus 
childish. . . . You are very much obliged to S r 
Charles Cotterell for assisting you in buying your 
things : I hope you will bee advised by him, & en- 
deavour to imitate him, for hee is a very sober discrett 

Two days after this precise letter was penned, in 
midst of his quiet and useful life at Claydon, Sir 
Ralph was suddenly arrested as a suspected Royalist 
on June 13, 1655, by the Lord Protector's soldiers. 
His next letter to Edmund tells the story : ' Yours June 15, 
of ^ June I received this very evening at London 
being just now brought Prisoner to Towne with 
divers Lords and other persons of quallity, for 
wee know not what ; our owne innocence is a Pro- 
tection that canot be taken from us ; had you been 
heere, you had certainly beene in Prison too, for they 
tooke both father and sonn in many places, and though 
I must confesse the Soldiers that tooke me at Clay- 
don on Wednesday last, used me very civilly, yet they 
tooke all the Pistolls, & Swords in the house, & car- 
ried me to Northampton that very night, and the next 
morning (though 'twas a fast 1 ) made us goe to 

1 Probably the day of intercession for the persecuted Protestants 
of Piedmont. 


Brickill, & this night they brought us heather. What 
shall be donn with us, and that multitude of Gentry 
that is secured in every county, wee canot yet imagen, 
but I am glad with all my hart you were not heere, 
for you are yet unacquainted with the great charge, 
trouble, and inconveniences of a Prison, and I hope 
the times will grow so quiet that you may enjoy your 
freedome better then wee have donn. I pray husband 
your money as well as possibly you can, for these are 
not only very troublesome, but chargable times, and 
though I am willing to suffer first, yet if this contineu, 
you must thinke to suffer too.' 

The shock was great to everyone at Claydon. 

Will Roades tried to get another interview with his 

June 18, master. ' I was at Northamton, but cam to late to 


speak with you there,' he writes, ' but I hop in God 
to see your Saffe Return, and for afflicktions whille 
we live in this vaille of miserey must continually be 
loocked for, but yf you souffer afflicktions heere for 
Righteousness saike, hapy are you in your sufferings ; 
but I hop you shall have no cause but however it shall 
be, the hartie prayer of your humble servant to all- 
mightie god to give you a strong faith in Jesus Christ 
which is not worthy to be compared to any tribu- 
lations heere, for a good conscience is a conteniall 
feast which I doubt not of in you, so I pray god bless 
you & yours.' This devout letter was followed by 
more earthly consolations in the form of a venison 
pasty. 'If it plese god I should a ben happie to 
have seen you Eate part of it at Claydon.' 


Sir Ralph wrote to Mun again from ' St. James His June 22 ' 

. . . 165' 

house. Childe, The letter I writ you on Friday last will 

fully informe you of my being brought Prisoner to 
London. That night late many were committed to 
the Gatehouse, & the next morning at least eleven 
more of us were comitted to Lambeth House, & that 
very afternoone my selfe with divers others were 
committed to this place, where every man hath a 
guard uppon him day & night, but wee are not kept 
upp close nor are our friends kept from us, I thanke 
god I am in good aire & good health & my innocency 
keepes me cheerfull.' 

Letters of condolence poured in and good wishes 
for his ' Inlargement.' Mrs. Isham writes: ' With 
great joie did I receive your leter for the D r rit soe 
dolfuley to me,- that I could naither eaght, Drinke nor 
Sleepe the night I herd of it. ... I am confident 
that you air tow Discrate as to have had a hand in 
the last rising.' Doll Leeke is full of sympathy ; but June 20, 

. . . r i 1655 

' my dispairmg nature is apt to tear the worst, my 
sister givs me some hope of your relese.' Lady 
Gawdy wishes that his ' offence against the State, 
had merited so ill a goale as Croweshall.' He writes 
to her cheerfully : ' I doubt not but you have heard 
how highly the Protector hath obleiged me, in send- 
ing for me from my owne cottage to lodge me in his 
owne Pallase, & presently put me into a condition June 25 
to keepe a Guard both day & night, w oh is usuall to 
none but Princes, & all this without my seeking I 
assure you ; & for ought I know (if I behave my 


selfe well) hee may probably exalt mee somewhat 8 
or 10 Rounds Higher too.' Sir Roger writes in 
June 24, answer to such another letter : ' I had much rather 
seen you in my poore Cottage then to have heard 
of you in a pallace. ... I am glad it is no worse 
since it is no better with you, and that you have 
wipt off that dirty & wett journey so fairely with- 
out prejudice to yo r health. Its well you are so 
merry, I am sure yo r letter was read with sober 
sadness in so much that it begott my wife a fitt 
of trembling in hir heart, which shee is too sub- 
ject upon all such occasions. When I heare you 
are free you shall heare more from me, but I pray 
know, that I will have nothing to doe with any 
prisoner of that nature, till he hath clear'd himself 
before my L d , therefore as you would avoyd my 
censure, acquitt yo r self like an honest man, and then 
my hermitage will be the fitter to receive you.' 

Sir Ralph was in pain with a shoulder he had 
put out some years before ; the .anxieties and ' incon- 
veniences ' of his confinement were affecting his 
spirits, and he was obliged to employ Robin Kibble, 
a drunken and careless servant, to write for him. He 
replied to his old friend with considerable irritation 
from ' S* James his House,' taking Sir Roger's joke 
seriously, that he must clear his character as a 
malignant before he could be received at Wroxall. 

Trusty Roger was quite upset at the least 
threatened interruption of a friendship that had stood 
the test of such dark and difficult years. He hastens 



tnn a pn in tiny at OiatfS 

\jffper* urgcyne. . 


to reply. ' Had my last letter been intercepted and so 
interpreted by one of the new gang, I should have 
pass't it over with a pleasant smile ; but that Sr. 
R. V. could finde in his heart to make so unkinde a 
construction of it, the test of a whole synod could not 
have gained my beliefe, had I not his owne hand for 
it. I see I must heerafter endeavor to be merry and 
wise, and to weigh my words before they are sent 
abroad, least they be found too light : it had not been 
the first time if you had suffered my folly in that 
kinde with a great deale of candor, and that now a 
little jesting should prove sufficient to render me an 
unworthy clown, by an implicit prohibiting you my 
house as it were, under the notion of a timerous dis- 
temper that of late hath seised upon me, of enter- 
taining such as you are. Let me tell you that I 
never was in love with the name of Malignant nor 
any that in earnest did mention it, but heerafter I 
shall dread & avoyd it for my own part, as I would 
the taking of a beare by the tooth. I am not willing 
to dwell upon this ungrateful subject but rather 
believe that St. James indited your letter & you were 
only the scribe. But is it possible that any ex- 
pression that fell from my pen, should alter the reso- 
lution of Sir R. V.? I have alwaies thought him as 
fixed as the earth, but I shall lay the whole blame 
upon my self. All this to St. James as for your- 
self I wish you at liberty & in no worse place then 
I am in my self. . . . Your most affectionate and 
discomposed friend and servant.' 


But before the soft answer came Sir Ralph had 
forgotten that there was any cause of offence. 
July 12, ' Certainly either you or I or both of us,' he wrote, 
' are grown notable Drunkards, & know not what 
wee write. What could you take ill in my last letter 
that you should thus chide me ? I will not chide 
again, the Victory shall be yours, for you have soe 
longe & often obleiged me, that you may now use me 
as you list. I could finde in my hart to breake prison 
to cleare this Cloud, but not being conscious of ever 
writing, speaking, or soe much as thinking anything 
to your prejudice, I know (according to your old 
rules of kindnesse & justice) you will doe me that 
right as to esteeme me still your faithfull friend & 
servant, R. V.' ' Whether I was drunk or madd it 
matters not,' Sir Roger rejoined, 'if I were mistaken 
I am glad, and shall be as willing to eate my words 
as my meat when I am hungry.' Sir Ralph retorts 
that if he misunderstands him again he will get him 
' a home in Bedlam or at least in this place, where for 
ought I see, you may have leasure enough to coole 
both your heeles and your head too, for wee heare no 
newes of our Enlargement : yet some few of us with 
greate struggling & solicitations have gotten leave to 
goe home, but soe bound & fetterd, that most of us 
had much rather remain heere as wee are, then 
returne to our owne houses with such shackels on our 
persons, & our Fortunes too. . . . You will not be , 
satisfied unless I spend the summer with you, but 
alas Sir that's already gon, this 5 weekes imprison- 


ment hath almost eaten up the summer quarter . . . 
all that I can say more is (that when the Protector 
hath donn with mee) and that you are alone att 
Wroxall you may freely dispose of me.' 

Sir Ralph's friends were working for his release. 
There is a copy of a letter from Colonel Thomas 
Hammond to a person in authority unnamed : 
4 Our ould acquintance makes me write to you 
about a cosen of my wife's, S r Ralfe Verny, intreat- 
ing you to stand his friend ; he has by a mistake (I am 
confident) been delivered to you as a delinquent. He 
was sitting in the Parlement-house when his father 
was killed at Edgehill, & sent in volentaryly two 
horses into the Parlements army, tis true in the yeare 
1643 he went beyond sea, it was for his wife's health, 
who about 3 or 4 yeares after dyed there, & he 
returned not long after for England, Now you know 
as much as I, I am confident you will be as tender 
in oppressing one well affected, as just against a 
malignant, I am far from pleading for a malignant, 
we in Surry if men testify ther good affections 
(though malignants before) by our Commission are 
directed to spare them, I leave all this with you 
knowing you will proceed in righteousnesse.' 

Doll Leeke writes : ' that Saint James stood July 4, 
by Croshall wood, I then wold have a care of you 
myself ; it is possible I might be as great a vex- 
asion to you as your jalor, but it should be per- 
formed with so much kindness that in charity you 
would bear with me. . . . I hear some are relest 


and I beleve you have many frinds that wold 
interest them selfs for you, and prevaill I am con- 
fident, I pray stand not to much upon your puntillios 
for ther is nothing now but self intrest to be preferd : 
thay say you will have no body medell in this affair ; 

I hope it is an alterable resolution ; your present 
condision gives your frinds no satisfaction, nether can 
it be other then a perpetuall trouble to me.' She 
begs him to have a doctor's advice, and gives her 
own. 'I am confident baithing in milk & water 
wold do you good ; I mean a generall bath, not only 
your arm ... I fear you vex yourself, but dear 
cosen let not your enemies have that advantage over 
you, for if you weer all destroyed it wold be a 
pleasure to them ; therefore I beg of you to resolve 
to be mery & to make much of yourself.' Aunt 
Sherard's stumbling pen hopes that ' as you waier 
tacken off sodin, you will be relesed of A sodin tow.' 
John Stewkely writes his kind inquiries. ' The 
messenger came a Coachman, but returns Postillion 

July 26, and is upon the spurr.' Sir Ralph replies : ' Wee 
that are restrayned have no present hope to enjoy 
our owne Houses in hast, patience is an excellent 
Vertue & our new masters are resolved to see how 
large a proportion wee have of it.' 

On July 30 Sir Ralph writes to Lady Gawdy : 

I 1 am very much joyed at Sir Francis Coke's 
enlargment tis a good president for all we Prisoners 
to urge to our new masters, when the right plannet 
reigneth we shall get out ... tis generally bee- 


leeved the greate and unexpected blow given to 
the Fleet in the Indies 1 (which is like to bee the 
Losse of that designe) will put them to soe greate 
straights for money that their necessities (though not 
our guilt) will oblige them to use the greater 
severities towards the Cavalier Party, to whome they 
attribute all their misfortunes, but with what justice 
this can bee layd unto theire charge is beyond my 
apprehension.' To Doll Leeke he writes : ' I knew 
that Sir Ed : Syd [enham] (with the helpe of 
Coll : Coke) procured that favour for Sir Francis, 
but I have noe reason to expect the like, for since 
my being seized the Collonell hath beene soe strangly 
shie of mee, that some have woondered at it, & yett 
I doe not know, that ever in this or any other thing, 
I oppressed him with the least of my concernes.' 

Mun is sick of the Low Countries; 'j'ai assezveu 
de ces pais icy, je ne m'en soucie plus'; if he may 
not come home he Avould go to Heidelberg and study 
mathematics and German ; there is good society 
there. Sir Ralph hopes to obtain leave to travel, 
when he might meet Mun abroad ; but this is 
doubtful 'unlesse it bee to the Spaw, or some other 
Waters, & thats usually granted but for 3 or 6 
months at most.' He is not anxious for Mun's return 
on account of the ' strange life our youth now lead 
for want of a Court and Playes to entertaine them.' 
1 Mun confesseth to me hee hath scarse looked at July is, 


1 A detailed account of this disastrous war appeared in Mac* 
millan's Magazine, January 1894, by the Hon. T. "W. Fortescue. 



a Booke since his coming from Utrecht, if hee hath 
neglected his exercizes as much I beeleeve, hee may 
come home & keepe sheep for hee will bee fit for little 
else ... he hath a greate aversion to the Court and 

Mun asks for 150 yards of black ribbon to trim a 
grey and black cloth doublet to be worn with scarlet 
silk stockings, which will make a proper attire, or 
black, if his father prefers them, as if a ' nice ' fancy 
in stockings was likely to appeal to him in ' St. 
James his house ' ; he also requires some Cordovan 
gloves. Sir Ralph thinks 150 yards of ribbon an 
excessive quantity for bows, ' soe a suit bee whole, 
cleane, & fashionable I care not how plaine it bee.' 
Later in the autumn Mun complains of the un- 
healthiness of the Hague, which he says has never 
suited him, but it is too late to think of moving; 

' O 

:NOV. 23, now, 'car i'ai achepte' du tourfe pour me servir 

1655 ' . , 

tout 1 hiver. 

Mr. William Gee and his wife had ventured back 
to England, and were anxious to receive Sir Ralph. 
Their first child, so lovingly expected, died in the 
spring of 1654. ' Sweet Babby, tis happy,' wrote 
Sir Ralph, ' & the more that it had noe share in the 
common sinnes and suiferings of these ill times.' 
' My wife's faithfull service,' wrote Cousin Gee, ' & 
hearty wishes for your liberty to endure the pen- 
nance of a third piece of Beefe, which is all you will 
find att Tuppendence, more then a reall welcome.' 

Doll Leeke and Lady Hobart had all sorts of fine 


plans for Sir Ralph's release. Lady Warwick's name 
had been mentioned amongst others who might be 
approached, as she had more influence than ever in 
high places. Sir Ralph's reply must have fallen like 
a cold shower-bath upon these kind busy bodies. ' I 
earnestly beseech you.' he wrote to Lady Hobart, August 13, 
'not to write to the Person you wott of, concern- 
ing mee, or my release. I came in with the crowd, 
and shall willingly attend to goe out with it. Heere 
are many that gett off dayly (& I am glad to see the 
dore open) but to say truth some goe on soe hard, & 
others on soe unhansorne Termes, that I had much 
rather remaine where I am, then bee at Claydon, on 
those conditions, although my owne occations did 
now as much as ever require me there. Divers of 
our Lords (with your Coz: Sir Fred:) have writ to 
the Protector & most of the Knights & gentlemen 
have petitioned him last Weeke, but as yet they 
can get noe answere. Sir Justinian Isham & my 
selfe sit still & are willing to see how they are like 
to succeed, before we appeare too pressing upon our 
new Masters ; but we have a petition ready, which 
we hope may bee received at any time ; being we 
crave nothing in it, but what they ought to grant to 
every Englishman in our condition, as well as unto 
him or me.' 

Sir Ralph claimed equal and public justice for all, 
not special favour for himself won by influence and 
intrigue ; a tone which the patriots of the Civil Wai- 
would have warmly approved. 

K 2 


Henry writes having just attended the assizes at 
August is, Buckingham : ' I must needs say, the Judge att the 
sise, in his chardge, gave non of us much hopes of 
any of your libertyes, but didd tell us a did beelive 
the countrey in generall might bee discontented att 
their restraint, a excused the Protector and sed as 
state matters did stand, his highnesse had a good 
reason for it, & that the innosent should not suffer, 
for his designe was onley to punish the guilty ; but 
not a word of any trey all when you should bee hard. 
. . . M r Sheriff Kept a free and noble table for all 
commers, and wisht you heartely att it.' 

' Tis now neare seaven weekes since wee were 

July so, taken,' Sir Ralph writes to Mr. Cordell, ' & as yet 

wee have never been examined, neither can we yet 

discover why we were restrayned, nor when we shall 

be released.' 

Aug. 23, 'Cozen Stafford is at Liberty uppon Bond, Col- 

1 ccr 

lonell Ingolsby procured it, & one Collonell Pasterne 
[Paston] a Norfolke gentleman is also freed, but Sir 
Justinian Isham & my selfe & all the rest of our 
number are still in Limbo, though we are daily pro- 
mised a generall discharge.' Sir Ralph writes to 
Mrs. Sherard that he is allowed to remove to rooms 
Aug. 27, belonging to her sister Susan Abercromby. ' When 

1 Ht* t\ 

I was at St. James his Tennis Court, though I had 
a very good chamber, yet I had noe place for a 
servant in the house ; they were forced, after I 
was in my bedd, to goe lodg neare Charing Crosse, 
which was soe inconvenient that I desired to 


change my Quarters ; and my Aunts house being 
within the Jurisdiction of the Garrison ; she with 
her mayd resolved to pack away for a consider- 
able time.' Mrs. Sherard is surprised that he should 
be allowed 'noe greater Liberty, for I her of many as 
aier quite free, and com into the Countrey which was 
formerly Deepely ingaged for the lat King.' 

' Your one wisdom & the protector's ill nature,' Sept. 6, 
writes Lady Gawdy, ' makes mee dispare of seeinge 
you this sommer in my durty habitation/ * Divers 
of the Grandies,' Sir Ralph replies, ' doe conn- Sept. 8, 
dently assure us wee shall bee released as soone 
AS the Protector is well & perfectly recovered, but 
wee have been told the same story in effect at least 
6 weekes togeather, yet Jeffery Palmer's being sett 
at liberty, gives us some small hope that wee may 
bee soe too.' The Protector had been ailing at in- 
tervals all through the summer, the Earl of Norwich 
wrote to Mr. Secretary Nicholas in the usual tone of 
& Royalist, alluding to the 'Arch Rebell ' : ; Question- June 15, 
lesse Cromwell is in huge disorder, as well in his 
owne bowels as his government.' 

Cousin Stafford writes after his own release that Sept. 3, 
if those who have been imprisoned are forbidden to 
go to London, at least he and Sir Ralph may hope 
to visit each other in Bucks, ' but how great our un- 
happiness may prove, if wee shall be deprived of the 
tuition of vigilant Major Browne.' 

The troubles of the times put a strain upon all 
ordinary friendships. Sir Ralph had been reminding 


his father's old friend Lady Carnarvon (nee Her- 
bert), whose picture by Vandyke was amongst his 
most valued possessions, of a debt owed by her late 
husband to Sir Edmund amounting to 116/. 10s. 
Cousin Thomas Stafford had been the interme- 
Sept. 5, diary. ' I moved yo r business,' he writes, ' to the 
Lady Carnarvon according to yo r instruction, and I 
found her very unwilling to meddle w th it, having 
putt on a resolution (upon the affronts of Russell 
and unhansom carrage of the wise Lord) to w th draw 
her selfe fro' all business of that nature for a time, 
But shee was pleased to say that Sir Orlands Bridg- 
man's judgment must bee taken upon the securitie 
for all my lords' fathers debtes.' Sir Ralph had 
been asked the previous year to be a trustee to the 
' little Lord,' but as these debts were still unsettled 
he thought himself not in a position to accept 
the trust. He wrote to Mr. Stafford : ' I thanke 
you for mooving the Lady Carnarvon about my 
money, but since she is soe coole in it, I shall let 
it rest awhile, had my late Father, or Mother been 
living, I dare say this debt should have beene pre- 
ferred in point of payment before any other. The 
service my Father did that family deserves a better 
requitall, & soe I shall tell my Lady the very next 
time I see her.' The money was soon after repaid, 
and the old cordial relations between them were 

Sir Ralph was still in durance vile ; mothers and 
nurses were in despair ; no child in the family could 

c' innf 

Iri'in n Jin ml tny l-\' C ( n/icijju a/ (.jLaudcn ^/ifiui 


be properly christened in his absence. ' Nat Smith,' 
grandson of Nat Hobart, was baptized at RadclifFe, 
'and for want of a godly godfather/ Henry writes, July 2, 
' they invited my worshipp to stand, for w ch in a 
word I did with a grave & religious grace ; many 
promises I did make for you such if you performe 
not, shall bee put on your score, in the next world, 
and not mine, for I doe as little love deepe and 
sollem ingagements, as your honour doth entringe 
into bonds. I have given 20s. to the nurse and 20s. 
to the midwife and 10s. to the nurse-keeper as you 

Sir Ealph wrote to the baby's grandmother : July 21, 
* Sweet Cosen, I am infinitely joyed at your dearest 
daughter's saife Delivery, and wish myself Delivered 
too. . . . Nattecock like an honest Fellow & kinde, 
visited me on Sunday.' 

For these country gentlemen, accustomed to live 
in the fresh air and to do all their business on horse- 
back, it was most irksome and unwholesome to be 
penned up in London during the summer months, 
and one after another suffered in health. From the 
day of his enforced ride to London as a prisoner, in 
June, Sir Ralph was never in the saddle again till 
the end of October. So full are the records of this 
year that we can trace his occupations day by day. 
He eagerly welcomed every post that visited him, 
' Letters,' he says, ' are a very greate comforte in 
the absence of our friendes, yet they cannot answere 
us a question though wee desire to bee satisfied in 


twenty severall perticulars concerning those wee 

Of good society there was no lack at St. James'; 
during the early part of the time ' new prisoners of 
quality ' were ' dayly brought in.' But Sir Ralph 
had not much heart to join in it ; he took his meals 
alone, and although Sir Roger supposed ' that your 
whole company keepe together and are as merry 
as birds in a Cage ; ' Doll Leeke heard from Sir 
Frederick Cornwallis, who had just been let out of 
the cage, that Sir Ralph was not at all sociable. 
' He was asked how you did, & he ansred you never 
came amongst them, therfor he could give no account 
of you.' 

But Sir Ralph had at least one old friend at 
St. James' who took the same line as he did about 
then* detention, and with whom he had a great deal 
of pleasant intercourse. Sir Justinian Isham, who 
could win from saucy Dorothy Osborne only the 
nickname of 'Sir Solomon,' had since found in 
Vere Lsigh a wife who appreciated his solid excel- 
lence. He was sadly familiar with bonds and fines, 
and it added much to his present trouble that he 
had been torn away from his home when his wife 
most needed his care and love. News of the birth 
of a baby Vere reached him at St. James'. 

Sir Ralph never lost the opportunity of forward- 
ing a good match. He had then young Charles Gawdy 
and Edmund to provide for ; Sir Justinian's four fair 
daughters by his first wife had considerable portions ; 


hence the subject was of great mutual concern, and 
left room for ' treaties ' as interesting and compli- 
cated as the moves in a game of chess. Sir Ralph 
writes to Lady Gawdy of the Miss Ishams with July 12, 
approval : ' The young Women have been bredd 
more in the country then at London.' ' Their 
Father dwells neare Northampton, is a very dis- 
creet person, of a plentifull Fortune & of an antient 
Family, who professeth (soe there bee a compe- 
tencie) to preferre the parts & person of A man before 
his Fortune.' Of maidens Sir Ralph had Gary's step- 
daughters to think of, a number of young Hobarts 
and Dentons, and very specially his own sister Betty, 
who thus expressed her sense of his merits : ' I 
cannot say you have no skill in providing Husbands, 
for I am confident when you tack such an imploy- 
ment upon you, that you will bring it to perfection.' 
But, alas for Betty's hopes, Sir Ralph found eldest 
sons a good deal easier to treat for than younger 
daughters, unless they were heiresses like Margaret 
and Mary Eure, who were besieged with suitors. 
Robert Cotton of Combermere is ' languishing for 
love of Margaret, sayes his prayers backwards, & 
wishes all ill-luck to his rivalls.' Mrs. Isham recom- 
mends ' Mr. Bacchus ' daughter and heiress for Mun, 
but the i little nitty old man ' is treating simultane- 
ously in another quarter, to Sir Ralph's great wrath, so 
these negotiations serve only to while the time away. 
Lady Gawdy ventures to remonstrate again with 
Sir Ralph for refusing the conditions of release offered 


Sept. 26, him. ' I am aprehensive you will not let selfe interest 
have any power to sway the lest part of that that 
lookes like honour. Pray only lay aside singularity, 
for to bee vertuous alone will bee interperted A 

Sir Ralph was not likely to be convinced by such 
feminine reasoning ; but with many apologies this 

Oct. 3, anxious friend returns to the charge : ' Though I am 

1 fKr '~ > " 

assured all you doe may indure the most critticall 
triall of judgment, yett I must confes my selfe unsat- 
tisfied to heare you chuse restrant, when others of your 
consorts prefer liberty. I ges you have not many of 
so high harte as your selfe left with you, you can best 
judge of what consiquences your refuse of grace may 
prove whether faitall or noe, 'tis not every enemie can 
cherish worth in the person opposes.' Doll Leeke 

Sept. 26, hopes he will not ' be perticular in the refusall, for 
Liberty is so presious (& the parsons you receve it 
from so indifirant whether you have it or noe) that 
you ought rather to court it, then to be nise in 
accepting, pardon me if I have said too much.' 

Cousin Stafford's men after hay-harvest have 

Oct. 3, searched the hedgerows for elms for Sir Ralph. ' I 
pray remember my Sweet Bryer,' he writes ; ' if 
those that gather the setts use to come to Winslow 
market, it will cost nothing to bring them to Claydon, 
for I will appoint my man Roades to take care of it 
there, hee seldome misses a markett day, I thinke you 
told mee they were about halfe a crown or 3 shillings 
a thousand, which is cheape enough, & if they be to 


be had at soe easy a Rate, I would have 2000 
gathered as soone as you please, & sent in by 500 or 
1000 a weeke, till the whole 2000 were gathered. 
Charme them least they send ordinary Bryers. for 
sweet Bryers ; & lett me know if I may have wood- 
bines at the same rate.' The very sound of wood- 
bine and sweetbriar must have made Sir Ralph 
long to see the last remains of summer in his 
garden. Sir Roger, in despair, hopes at least that 
he may spend Christmas with them ' if non bee be- 
fore hand with me, as I trust they are not, especially 
St. James/ 

Wearied out at last, though not convinced, Sir 
Ralph felt that he would make himself too conspicuous 
by being the only prisoner who refused to be liberated 
on terms which even Sir Justinian had accepted. He 
therefore entered into a bond to the Lord Protector for 
2,000/., together with Dr. William Denton and Mr. 
Thomas Leeke, Lieut.-Col. Worsley to deliver up the 
bond at the end of a year if it were not forfeited in the 
meantime. ' Colonel Worsley then discharged Sir 
Ralph the next day out of prison.' This is his own 
account of it : ' On Thursday with the rest of the London, 

J Oct. 8, 

crowd, I sealed a Bond soe full of Barbarous con- 1655 
ditions that I am ashamed to insert them here. All 
the Favour that could bee obtained was to get 
it limited for a yeare, but tis so untowardly penned 
that I doubt they will continue it longer on us. 
The Truth is if any one person of those I use to 
converse with all, had thought fit to refuse it, I 


should have donn soe too, but ... to bee singular 
in such a thing, at such a time, would have been 
interpreted meerly to be stubbornesse.' 
Oct. 23, Gary Gardiner wrote on the anniversary of the 

1655 J . J 

battle of Edgehill : ' The fatall day to Inglond & our 
family,' to congratulate him ' on his inlardgment.' 

There is a memorandum in his own handwrit- 
ing : ' The 26 Octob: 1655 I writ Mun word, I was 
come to Claydon uppon Bond.' Sir Roger writes: ' I 
am gladd any part of you is at liberty, though you 
bee no man of your hands, your feet will serve my 
turn, if you will but make good use of them now they 
are at liberty. Come when you will, I feare you not, 
since your hands are tied.' 

Oct. 10, ' Forgive me,' wrote Lady Grawdy ' if I receive 

sattisfaction hi what you regrett at your liberty. 
I looke at the impossibility of your haveinge it on 
termes agreeable to your judgment, and all that 
are over Come, are not conquered, nor are we answer- 
able for our faits. There is a soveranity in honour 
which noe usurpation can depose, you are safe in that, 
& so longe may looke with contempt on inferior 
objects. If my desire of youre freedom bee an evi- 
dence of my folly . . . tis noe nuse that our sex 
should want wisdom, and if all the defects I have 
were as visable, you could not finde an excuse for 
your freindshipp to Sir, your humble servant, Vere 

Oct. is, Sir Ralph's reply defines his position. ' Ma- 

dame, you are highly charritable in cheering upp 


a person in my condition, & I humbly thank you 
for it ; for though the Example of very many (farre 
Wiser & better men then my selfe) might somewhat 
excuse my signing that ugly conditioned Bond, yet 
your approbation gives me farre more satisfaction 
then all that they have done. The truth is, though 
I infinitely desired to bee at home, & my occasions 
very much require mee there, yet it was to avoyd 
singularity rather then any thinge else, that in- 
duced mee to seale it ; and were I now to begin 
againe (unlesse some others would joyne with rnee) 
possibly I might struggle long to little purpose and 
at last be forced to accept of the same conditions, to 
avoyd a greater mischeife. For those that are now 
in power take it very ill, and will not allow that the 
least of theire commands should bee disputed by 
any, much lesse by so inconsiderable a person as 
Madame, Your humblest servant, R. V.' 




Though Justice against Fate complain, 

And plead the ancient rights in vain. MARVELL. 

SIR RALPH'S satisfaction in his release from imprison- 
ment was soon clouded over by fresh anxieties. The 
year 1655 had seen Cromwell's protest and Milton's 
sonnet on behalf of the persecuted Piedmontese ; 
all Europe recognised the power of the Lord Pro- 
tector to defend English and Protestant interests 
abroad ; the commercial and industrial classes at 
home were prosperous and, on the whole, contented ; 
but in these triumphant days of the great Puritan's 
rule the little world pictured in the Verney letters 
was plunged in sadness. It was a world of ' poor 
unknown Royalist squires,' as Carlyle terms them, 
and of other squires, by no means Royalist, who 
vainly tried to remain ' unknown ' to the Major- 
Generals, ' Cromwell's Mastiffs,' who had fastened on 
their estates. The dismal words, Composition, Corn- 
purgation, Decimation, Sequestration (as uncouth 
and un-English in sound as in political import), 


constantly appear in the letters, and the squires 
shuddered to be reminded that they had been classed 
as Malignants, Delinquents, and Compounders, or at 
the best as ' Disaffected Only.' 

These troubles were the more bitterly felt by the 
country gentlemen because they were just beginning 
to breathe again after the long fierce strife of the 
Civil War. Some had ventured to return home after 
years of exile ; many country-houses like Wroxall, 
Lamport, and Claydon were being repaired and 
beautified, and old debts were beginning to be 
paid, when the land owners were suddenly over- 
whelmed with fresh exactions. ' Of all mine ac- 
quaintance, there is scarce an honest man that is not 
in a borrowing condition,' writes Sir Ralph. 

But an act of kindness greatly cheered his own 
return home. A servant arrived with a beautiful roan 
mare (such as Sir Ralph would never have purchased 
for his own riding) and a note from Aunt Sherard 
' because . . . you should be well mounted to bring Oct. 29, 
you throoe the Deepe waies, I have presented you with 
this maier, being confident shee will carry you iseylie, 
shee is to be rid in a bit, for elce her metell is such 
as shee will goe tow fast for your grave pas ... let 
your servants have a caier of the maier after watering, 
for elce shee may run awaie with them.' ' Yeasterday NOV. i, 
you surprised mee strangly,' he replies, ' with such a 
greate, and unexpected present, that I know not what 
to say, if any thing could possibly make me a jocky, 
certainly you have taken the way to doe it, I finde it 


already a little coming uppon me, for (though I never 
was on Horseback since y e middle of June, yet) I am 
soe in love with this maire, that I am now growne 
almost weary of my coach, and choose to ride on her 
to Hillesdon presently ; perhapps she may put me 
into such a gadding humour, that you (and all the 
rest of my friends & acquaintance) may have just 

Nov. 5, cause to repent your Bounty.' ' I am most harteyli 
glad as the maier pleseth you,' writes Aunt Sherard ; 
* I toocke it uppon trust, for I have noe scill in horsis 
my selfe. All y e newes I have to relat to you is that 
yo r old acquaintance that toocke you prison'r is to be 
in this country to tacke y e bondes of all the jhentrey 
in the cuntray that thay acket not against my lord 
protector. The cavaleres aier to give 5,000/. pond 
bond, and A 100 pond bond for every servant thay 
keepe, this is y e newes of ower cuntry, and we expecte 
ower mastor her on Munday next, but he stais not 
above a wicke in thes partes, you see my Lord pro- 
tector can secewer himselfe I licke him well.' 

Dr. Denton doubts whether Sir Ralph is prudent 

Nov. 10, to absent himself from Claydon. ' Knowing y r 
intentions are for Whissendine, I thought fitt to lett 
y u know that I heare that some of the Maior Generalls 
act already, & that Maior Butler hath required my 
L d Westmoreland amongst others to appear at Ket- 
teringe. ... If y u should be summoned when from 
home, happily you may be at such a distance as y u may 
not appeare at the time appointed & soe may forfeit 
the bond, you best know what y u have to doe, but I 


wish you had your bond up & at Rome. If my nagg 
come to you whilst at home, I pray see him goe uppon 
his pace, if this storme hold, a long-eared asse may 
serve my turne.' ' This day Dick Winwood tells me Nov - 12 > 

. . 1655 

Northampton is very full of persons sunioned in to 
give security for themselves & serv ts & a particular of 
their estate reall and personall, & must pay a 10 th of 
the reall annually, & a 15 th of their personall estate, 
& if not a just particular, then a confiscation. It is 
time to looke about y u . I heare L d Stanhop is 
sumoned in, if soe then it is at pleasure, & Delin- 
quency shall be noe standard. I thinke he never 
compounded.' Sir Justinian hopes that Sir Ralph 
' will vouchsafe him some stay at Lamport,' ' where Nov - 2 - 

J ' 1655 

you may see what the want of my presence hath now 
necessitated me to in very ill season, my house not yet 
all covered nor yet, I assure you so open as you shall 
ever find the heart of Sir, Your affectionate friend to 
serve you.' 

Another letter in Sir Justinian's hand is signed 
only with an allusion to the building he is carrying 
on. ' Sir, You may suppose They began with this NOV. 10, 
country, new bonds indeterminable & in greater sums 
offered even to them who had given others formerly 
at Lond : as also single bonds for the good behaviour 
of servants, noe particulars of the estates to be re- 
ceived before the bonds were signed, & they to be 
signed forthwith, or els imprisonment & sequestration 
to follow imediately ; . . . I have not yet heard of 
any refusall, not being allow'd leave to depart y e towne 
VOL. in. s 


[Northampton] before signing. . . . All y e Instruc- 
tions with y e Additional ones we could not yet see, 
nor heare what is don in other places. My eldest 
daughter now ill & the worse I doubt for my trouble, 
made ihee returne fro' Northampton sooner then I 
would, though one of y e last sealers. Sir wholly 

Dr. Denton is running about the town in Sir 

Ralph's interest, but can see neither Colonel Cooke, 

' whom I hunted dry foot,' nor Lord Fleet wood. 

Nov. 17, Hi s advice to Sir Ralph is ' to appeare when 


suinoned & I thinke best to deliver noe particular, 
but crave leave to appeale to my L d or his councell or 
to both, for though you claime noe Articles, nor have 
any need of any act of oblivion (you are of my L' 1 
Cooke' s mind to refuse noe pardon that God & his 
kinge would give him) yett y u claim by a law para- 
mount to them, which is y r inocency, as havinge 
never been a Delinq* etc. they told S r Jo : Mounson 
[the elder brother of the doctor's friend in the 
Fleet] that they came not to dispute etc. & he 
refusinge to submitt, they quartered 50 horse on him, 
with a menace of 500 more in case he did not submitt 
within 8 daies, which he not doinge, they did not 
send 500 horse but sequestred him. . . . Kate is y r 
serv* for partridges. I heare y e 10 th is to be a per- 
petuall revenue, maugre all intayles & settle"* 8 , & 
that Sequestracon & Delinquency shall not be the 
only standard, but DissafFection shall in due time 
have its place, & inquiry is made after the estates 


of such as died Delinquents unsequestred, as Earie 
of Sunderland etc., & of Disaffected Only, as M r 
Darcy etc.' 

Mr. Cordell had consulted Sir Ralph during the 
summer of 1655 as to whether he might venture to 
return to England with Robert Cotton, ' though known 
to bear a Royalist name.' Sir Ralph thought that he 
might, ' soe that you keep noe mallignant Company fug. 28, 
. . . but Sir mistake me not, for I doe not thinke you 
can with safety come to London, by reason of the 
Protector's late Proclamation which prohibits all that 
have adhered to the late King, or his party from 
being here, or within twenty miles till the 20 th October 
next, and unless they have spetiall license, or are 
under restraynt, or in eminent danger of death, or 
that London bee their usuall habitation. Now Sir, 
though you never did act anything, yet how farre 
the word " adhered " will be interpreted to extend, I 
dare not take upon me to determine, but Sir, Claydon 
is 40 miles from hence, & whether I am there or 
not, you shall bee sure to bee welcome. In earnest, 
at Claydon you may despatch your businesse as well 
as at any plaice but London, for you may write and 
send letters thrice a weeke, and about 2 months hence 
you may come up with freedome, y r horse shall be as 
welcome as yourself, and since y r vocations call 
you homewards, doe me the favour to dispatch them 
there. M r Cotton is out of all danger for when he 
went from home, hee was not old enough to adhere 
to any side. Your company may possibly draw him 

s 2 


unto my house & that would be a double favour.' 
Mr. Cordell, however, upon this report decided to 
remain abroad, especially as Sir Ralph had procured 
him a fresh pupil, John Bridgeman, son of Sir 
Orlando. A few months later Sir Ralph was shocked 
to receive the following letter from the young man : 
Dec d io' ' Sir, I make no question but you will be as much 
1655 surprized as I have been perplexed with the sadd 
and unexpected newse of the death of my deare freind 
M r Cordell, who immediately uppon his coming to 
Paris fell sicke, and dyed in lesse then 10 dayes, it 
beeing now about 3 weekes since this suddaine & 
unfortunate accident happened, which hath soe trou- 
bled mee that I could not recollect my selfe sooner, 
to give you timelier notice of it.' In December 
1653, 'the sad accident befell Mons r Du Yal which 
caused his death,' so of the trio of Sir Ralph's 
friends who had met at Blois, Cousin Gee alone 

Dismal letters come in from various other coun- 
Dec. 4, ti es> Cary writes from Hampshire : ' Major [General] 
Goff hath bin in thes parts this day fortnight, and 
continues heare ; all I heare he hath yet don is to 
send for all sequestred parsons, and Romes catholicks, 
and that they must pay the tenth part tord the 
maintenance of an army besides ther usiall contrabu- 
tion, but as yet nothing is setled, what more he may 
due as yet we know not, only ther is a flying report 
that ther must be no more sherifes but the truth I 
cannot tell.' 


Sir Roger, who does not despair of having his 
friend's company at ' Pie-tide/ tells him of the pro- 
ceedings in Warwickshire. ' The grand comis- ? 6 e |; 10 ' 
sioner is come to these parts, and convented 
before him the principal! gentry of o r County that 
have either been sequestred, or sequestrable, though 
they escaped the hands of the Comittee. The 10 th 
part is to be paid to the L d Protector, of all that 
they have, but if not worth full 1500/. in land and 
goods, they may escape that shott, however all are to 
give a security for their peacable behaviour . . . 
they are not permitted to have any arms in their 
houses, not so much as a birding piece, no not a 
sword, but are to send them to the Cheif Coinander of 
the County ; this was expresst to the chiefe of them 
my L d S r Thomas Lee, whose estate according to 
the accompt he gave him amounted to 2,000^. p. an. 
no more than a WOOL was demanded for his 
security, he desired to know whether any of his own 
tribes security would be taken replie was made, with 
all their hearts, for they had rather sue their ene- 
mies than their friends he was required to give in 
security for all his servants, which though he thought 
somewhat hard, yet was contented to submitt, their 
being but 1001. security demanded of him for them 
all ... S r ffrancis Willowby was the man who 
was summoned in and pleaded a non sequestra- 
tion, the more to blame, replied Major Generall 
Whally, was the commitee, for you sent in two 
horses to the king, so he was cast as for the 10 th 


part. S r Clement Fisher though sequestred, pleaded 
an article which runns to this senc that those are to 
be excepted who have manifested their good affections 
to the comon wealth since ; which he pretends to have 
done by a voluntary offering of himself both to 
Colloneli Hawksworth of our County, and Sir Gilbard 
Pickering of the Privy Councell for to serve the L d 
protector, when the late insurrection began to 
appeare ; this if he can get but the test of from S r 
Gilbard will free him. S r George Devoreux though 
not sequestred, being charged for sending in two 
horses, pleaded that his unruly sonne tooke them out 
of his stable without his knowledge or consent, and 
went to the Kinge with them, this reprieved him for 
the present however, & was dismiss'd upon it.' 

It is a sad Christmas to them all. Henry is in 
despair, and no wonder ; these are no days for ' pro- 
gresses of pleasure.' ' How to dispose of myselfe I 
know not, for if proclamations march forth thus thick, 
and all sports put downe, & the gentrey not per- 
mitted to meete, I am suer my fortune will be to 
breake.' There were many better men than Henry 
Verney who held the same opinion. 

The Doctor made a brave show of cheerfulness. 
Sir Ralph had sent up some additions to their 
Christmas fare. ' I have very good skill in Buns,' 
he wrote, ' and when I have tasted them, you shall 
have the doctor's opinion of them. . . . Kate says 
you are very quaint, & yet but a scrubbed K e , she 
doubts you want a Bun your selfe you are so waggish. 


Mall sales you are a cheatinge K fc for sending 4 pud- 
dings short of what you write.' 

' Claydon loves not Christmas,' writes Sir Ralph, 
' wee are all Roundheades on that point to save 
charges, w ch is now more allowable being threatened 
with such new & greate Impositions, meere necessity 
will force us to bee strangely thrifty : were I some- 
what younger I would binde my selfe Apprentice to 
old Audley, for I know not an abler master to teach 
mee to bee provident.' l 

Sir Roger writes on Christmas Eve : ' I understood 
by yours of the 1 7 th that you were then at Claydon, 
but to prevent suspition of superstition you intended 
very suddenly to remove, but you tell me not whither, 
but I suppose not far unless hither, least the Ab- 
battess of Wrox all send a bull to excommunicate 
you. . . . The Major Generall is, as I heare, gon out 
of our County & I presume hath left his directions 
to be observed by the Commissioners. ... I pray let 
me hear how you have disposed of yourself this 
Xmas, its possible I may hold it as superstitious to 
keep it next yeare as you doe this.' 

Tom, in ' weather so piercing cold,' and ' with 
fingers so nummed ' that he can hardly write, is the 
only one who goes through the form of wishing Sir 
Ralph ' a merry, happy, & joyfull Christmas.' ' Had 
things fell out as I once expected, this blessed time 

1 There is an old tract ' The Way to be Rich according 10 the Practice 
of the great Audley, who began with 200?. in 1605, and died worth 
400,000?., November 1662.' London : printed for E. Davies, 1662. 


might have proved somewhat fortunate to mee.' And 
there is a piteous whine for ' a small augmentation ' 
of his quarter, long since forestalled. 

Henry is at Wolverton, and proposes to Sir Ralph 

to dine with him there. He replies from Claydon 

Jan. 19, that he would willingly have done it ' uppon the 


score of kindred ' on his way from town, ' but I 
thought you had known me better then to imagen 
(that without greate & pressinge businesse) my old 
and lazy bones (in these short daies & ill waies) 
could goe from hence to Wolverton & dine & chat, 
and return back heather in a day.' 
Jan. 24, D r> Denton writes from town : ' On Munday last 


2 prisoners walking with theire soldat in the springe 
garden, endeavored to bribe him, but not prevaylinge, 
went to bind him, which not succeedinge they shot 
him, some say with his owne musquett, others with a 
pockett pistoll. This hath occasioned all prisoners to 
be called to theire quarters, & some say they will 
suddenly be tried for theire lives.' He writes again : 
Jan. 31, ' There is a Committee of 4. viz : Lambert, Fleetwood, 


Mulgrave, Jones, appointed to consider what prisoners 
are fittest to be released, but they have not yett sate. 
The souldier that was wounded in Springe garden by 
the 3 prisoners is dead, & he that killed him is in 
the dungeon, & the others are prisoners & are all 
to be tried for theire lives dy sure enough [will] 
one or more.' 

Sir Ralph wishes to spend the spring in safe ob- 
scurity at Claydon, and Sir Roger writes, hoping that 


he may remain ' a fixed starr ' in his own region. ' I 
perceive you are shortly in expectation of a visitt 
from a person of quality : I shall longe to heare that 
it is well over.' 

' You doe not heare that I am sent for to Alsbery,' 
Sir Ralph writes to Roades, ' for if you did, you would 
certainly send a messenger to me with the summons, 
or a copy of it. But I trust in God they will let me 
Rest in quiet.' There is a rumour of a warrant out 
against him, but perchance ' 'tis but a Fable.' Sir 
Ralph's fears, however, are soon confirmed. He 
receives a list of forty persons summoned to appeal- 
before the ' person of quality ' to whom Sir Roger re- 
ferred, in which his own name appears ; and a second 
list of the Bucks Commissioners sitting with Lord 
Fleetwood the Major- General ; or in his absence with 
' Major Packer ' as Chairman of the Court. 

It is sufficient to read the two lists, in which the 
gentlemen of a county are pitted against each other, 
one set as judges and the other as delinquents, to 
understand the irritation caused by the formation of 
such tribunals. Dr. Denton, writing to Sir Ralph of 
an action he has brought before Quarter Sessions, 
advises him i to end it to-night before tomorrow if De c- 
possible, & before any Major Generalls appeare in 
your Quarters . . . for I believe many of your 
Justices will be coadjutors & informers. Verbum 
sapienti suf.' 

Sir Ralph applied to the clerk of the former 
Sequestration Committee, and received a certificate 


iT5fi h 7> ' ^ na ^ ^ doth not appeare (neither is there) any 
charge of Delinquency, Sequestration or otherwise 
against the said Sir Ralph Yerney.' He also obtained 
from the Haberdashers' Hall a note of the proceedings 
formerly instituted against him, and the subsequent 
entry ' at the Committee for the County of Bucks 
sitting at Aylsbury the 29th of May, 1647. . . . 
That the estate of Sir Ralph Yerney was the 5 th of 
January then last, discharged of Sequestracion 
by order of the Committee of Lords & Commons.' 

U> ^ e ^ a d a ^ so ' a no ^ e f r the horses given by him, 
as a voluntary contribution to the Parliamentary 
Army, during the Civil War.' Thus fortified Sir 
Ralph appealed to Cromwell. The Doctor was of 
opinion that the petition would avail but little. 
' Favour goes farther than arguments.' Cousin 
Smith helped Sir Ralph in drafting his petition, l 

1 Sir Ralph's Petition. 

To his Highness the Lord Protector of the cofnonwealth of England 
Scotland & Ireland & the Dominions thereto belonging : 

The most humble Peticon of Sir Ralph Verney Humbly sheweth : 

That your Peticoner was never in any of the late King's quarters 
(though his whole estate lay within them) but constantly resided in 

That in the yeare 1643 without any intention of disservice to the 
Parliam* hee was necessitated to carry his wife into the hotter & 
further parts of France for the recovery of her health (who in the yeare 
1650 dyed there of consumption), & hee returned not untill the yeare 

That before his departure hee gave publique testimony of his good 
affections to the Parliam' by his voluntary contribution of horses and 
by his free and voluntary loane of 100Z. uppon the 400,OOOZ. Act, for 
which he with other gent : of the County of Bucks, had the thanks of 
the house of Comons, which was not repaied unto him untill 1647, 1648, 


but he did not succeed in saving liis own fortune 
from decimation. 1 

and then without interest though hee might have had that also with the 

That hee is no Delinq* nor ever compounded nor his estate ever in 
charge, or anything recvd thereout by any sequestrations, nor ever 
acted anything ag l the late Parliam 4 or this psent Government nor 
hath ever been accused for anything relating to the late Wars or the 
former or later rysings (nor any wayes privy to them) or for any dis- 
service or disaffection to the psent government, nor is hee conscious 
of doeing anything to merrit your Highness' displeasure. 

That since his returne from beyond peas he hath complyed in all 
this with the psent government. 

That your Highnes' Com" under the Major Generall for the County 
of Bucks, finding your Pef once sequestred though for absence onely, 
and not for any delinquency, & though Peticon sequestration, uppon 
his appeale to the house of Commons was dishandyed by the Com ers 
of Lords & Comons for sequestratons by speciall order of the house 
of Comons whereof your Pet r was a member, yet y e said Com 3 have 
ordered your Petiton r to bring in a pticular of his estate both real! and 
personall the 20 lh of this instant Month uppon. perill of sequestration. 

That if hee should bee made lyable to this new Tax the damage 
which it will bring uppon his estate hee being A^ery much indebted, 
and the pindice which it will bring uppon his person, to bee accompted 
a Delinq 1 & disaffected to your Highnes & your Governm' would bee 
such a marke of your Highnes' displeasure as would tend to his utter 

Hee therefore most humbly desires your Highnes' grace & favour 
to graunt your Order to the Maior Generall & Corn 6 for the County 
of Bucks or any Three of them to certify what other cause they have 
(if any) ag' yo r Peticon r then it herein before expressed, and untill such 
certificate and yo r Highnes future pleasure knowne thereuppon to 
respite all Proceedings ag l yo r Pet r that soe yo r Pef may bee wholly 
acquitted or disshandyed according to his innocency or guilt and yo r 
Highnes justice and clemency. 

And yo r Pef shall pray. 

1 William Smith's Decimation. 

Ordered By the Com" for the County of Bucks appointed by his 
Highnesse & the Councell for securing the Peace of the Commonwealth. 

Whereas William Smith of Akely Esq re appeared before us this day, 
& delivered in under his hande and seale, an account of his Estate, 
which is partly reall & partly personall, amounting to the vallue of 


It would have comforted the poor Bucks squires 
who rode away from ' the George in Aylesbury ' on 
that black Friday with such unpleasant documents, 
buttoned under their riding-coats, could they have 
foreseen how soon the power of the Major-Generals 
was to be swept away. 

Meanwhile ' the said Tax,' imposed with such 
extreme precision, had to be met at once, Squire 
Smith's hospitalities ever tended to exceed his income ; 
and, with his stables full of horses, and an increasing 
number of little heads in the nursery upstairs, he 
and his wife must have spent an anxious evening over 
ways and means, after his twenty-miles' ride home. 
Sir Ralph resented the injustice of being taxed as a 
malignant quite as much as the financial loss. 

Mun, who is ever ' a very ill manager of his affairs/ 

has spent the money sent him for his journey home, 

March 14, and asks for more : ' I am now in very great trouble,' 

1656 . . . J t 

replies his father, ' and in danger to loose the 

three thousand, one hundred and fifty nine pounds ; It is therefore 
ordered by the Com" that in consideration thereof, hee pay downe two 
hundred & ten pounds into the hands of M r Brockhurst, appointed 
Treasurer for the same, att the signe of the George in Aylesbury, upon 
the twentieth day of March instant, or else one & twenty pounds a 
yeare till the said Tax bee remitted ; and if shall accept of the charging 
of his Land as aforesaid this yearly summe of one & twenty pounds 
unto the aforesaid Treasurer upon fryday next being the fourteenth 
day of this instant March & the other moitie on the foure & twentieth 
day of June next after, & begin the next, paj-ment on the one & 
twentieth day of December following, at the signe of the George in 
Aylesbury aforesaid & from thence forward continue the payment of 
the said Tax half yearly upon the said dayes until the same be re- 

Given under our hands the seventh day of March 1655 [6]. 


Tenth part of my Estate, & if I deliver not in a 
perticuler of my Estate reall & personall on Thurs- 
day next, they will sequester me. This puts me to 
an appeale to the Protector & Councell, which is not 
only very chargeable to follow, but the successe soe 
Hazardous, that I know not which way to turne me. 
I am now giveing over Housekeeping, and discharging 
the most part of my Workmen that were building and 
fiting upp my House, & I shall lessen my Family 
all I can, to put me in a capacity to pay my deare 
Father's Debts ; which I see (by your expenses) you 
considder soe little, that I am resolved to considder 
them the more. ... I should have been glad to 
have scene you contract your expenses into a nar- 
rower compasse. ... I shall now bee silent, & begg 
of God to direct us both for the best. Adieu. . . . 
The Pacquet Boate from Dunkerke to Dover, is 
much the shortest Passage, but take heed then of 
bringing anything more with you then the cloathes 
uppon your Back, & those the Worst you have, for 
tis reported the passengers (by reason of our Warre 
with Spaine) are often pillaged. . . . God blesse 
you in your jorney & grant us a good meeting, & 
make you happier then your most affectionate father.' 

Dr. Denton writes : ' Deare Raph, It was al- March 21, 

1 fi^A 

most 9 a clock att night before I came home to 
receave yours of this daies date, soe that I can doe 
nothinge this night ... & tomorrow I doubt I 
shall doe as little, beinge to march to the towne in 
the rnorninge about the same errand in my owne 


concern e in which I doe not thinke to make use of 
any Privy Councellor or any eminent person (who 
doe not love to be too much troubled) for my owne 
selfe, but will reserve them to spend theire shott for 
somebody else. I have little crotchetts in my nodle 
& I will first try what they will doe. You will 
want SirR[ichard] T[emple] to bringe you to the 
little officers, & to acquaint you with some little 

i656 Ch 17 ' ^* r Rn er wonders ' how any can possibly wind 
themselves into an estate that hath so much innocency 
to protect it, but my hopes are that your feares are 
more than your dainger . . . trouble not your self, 
for an appeale to my Lord Protector, so noble & 
upright a person, I question not but will free you 
from such high inconveniences.' 

Some of the agencies Dr. Deuton alluded to were 
set in motion, but the ' eminent person/ a cousin of 
Charles, ' Lord Fleetwood,' who was induced to write 
to one of the Bucks Commissioners seems to be a 
good deal more anxious not to compromise himself, 
than to help on Sir Ralph's petition. 

March is, ' For the Hon ble Coll : George Fleetwood. Noble 

-f CCf* 

Sir, I am importuned, & beyond myne owne inclina- 
tion prevailed with, to give you the trouble of these 
Lines, in the behalfe of Sir Ralph Verney. I know 
hee hath a petition depending before his Highnesse, 
which if true, his case seemes to be hard ; all that is 
desired is that hee might have some little time given 
him before hee bee proceeded against, that soe hee 


may gaine his Highnesse answere to his application. 
The gentleman is unknowne to me. This is sub- 
mitted to your consideration & if any thing of just 
favour may bee afforded him, twill much oblige him 
who beggs your pardon for this presumption, and 
subscribes himselfe Your most humble servant THO : 

Sir Ralph 'in greate perplexitie' went down to March 20, 
Aylesbury ; the Protector had referred his petition 
back to the Bucks Committee, and he had prepared 
the ' perticuler ' of his property in case he should 
not get a reprieve. He returns his estate at Middle 
Claydon as worth about 71 \L 12s. 6d. yearly, but 
states ' that a greate part of it being in his owne 
hands, & other parts being never let neither by 
himselfe nor his Father but alwaies managed by a 
Bayliffe, he cannot set downe the yearly rent exactly.' 
There are only ' 4 Dairy Cowes ' ; but there are 
' 13 draught Bullocks ; a coach and 2 coach horses, 
3 Saddle Horses, 6 young steres, 1 yearling calfe ; 
Wood, Hay, Peate & some Timber brought to be used 
about his house, worth about 150/. ; his household 
goods his servants estimate about 300/., but his debts 
amount to ten times more than this money.' He 
mentions some 'small Rents at Mursley, besides a 
cottage or two that never paid any Rent.' 

He writes to Dr. Denton from Aylesbury an 
account of his long and harassing day before the 
commissioners, when he argued his own case. 
1 Deare D r , I followed your directions & pressed all 


that could bee for a rehearing, soe they bid me with- 
draw, but being called in againe, they told me plainly 
though there were new matter, it lay not in their 
power to relieve mee, for they had only authority to 
charge all that were sequestered, not to acquitt them ; 
they were not judges whether I was justly sequestered 
or not, that belonged only to the protector & his 
councell, & therefore they desired my perticuler. 
Then I acquainted them with the reference from the 
protector, & pressed hard for a suspension, soe 
they bid me withdraw againe, they told mee they 
would certify but they would not suspend, but they 
would give me till their next meeting (which would 
be about 3 weekes hence) to pay in my money, & if 
in the interim I could be discharged, they would be 
well pleased. Then I pressed very hard againe for a 
suspension, & lett them see how much harder it was 
to get a decimation [taken off] then to keep my selfe 
from being decimated. But when I saw there was no 
remedy, I desired that my name might not be entered 
into any of their bookes, nor any of their proceedings 
against me, for twas not the money I stood upon, but 
the mark of delinquency. Soe they bid me with- 
draw againe, & being called in they told [me] they 
would comply with mee in that, cause the clerk 
only to take short noates of all that concerned mee, 
but not to enter it in any booke, till my Lord Pro- 
tector's pleasure were knowne upon my petition. I 
urged that 'twas unlikely I should gett an answer 
before the time of payment of my money, & if it 


were entred into the Treasurer's booke, it would bee 
an evidence against mee, soe they told mee it should 
not be entred into any booke, though it were paid. 
Upon this I give them a perticuler which was read, 
& being appointed to withdraw the 4th time, they 
called me in againe & asked mee how & when those 
rent- charges & reversions were settled. I replied 
by my oncle Sir Francis, by my father many yeares 
since, & some by my selfe, soe they told mee if I 
did not gett the discharge, I must pay the Tenth, 
for what was mentioned to be in possession, which I 
gave in at 72 2/. Os. 9d. per annum, & they told 
mee they would passe by that which was in rever- 
sion, & my personal estate also which I valued in all 
at 450Z.' 

It would seem by this account that the gentlemen 
to whom this ungracious and difficult work was given 
took some trouble to carry it out with patience and 
fairness, so far as then* instructions allowed them. Sir 
Ralph thereupon drafted a second petition to Crom- 
well, which he sent in with a certificate, signed by 
seven of the Bucks Commissioners, that they found 
he had been formerly released from sequestration ' by 
a Committee of both Houses of Parliament ' and the 
final decision as to the decimation was again referred 
to his Highness. 

William Roades, who knew better than anyone 
how fiercely the Royalists had resented Sir Ralph's 
action in the past, wrote the following memorandum 
for Dr. Denton : ' Sir, My master Sir Raph Yerney has 



had very hard mesure first to have his father slaiiie 
in the late Kinges service, and after that great losse, 
to suffer so much by the Kinges soldiers. For first 
prince Morris' soldiers did discharge farmer Francis 
Tuck well and the rest of his tenants at [Tijngwick 
in Buckingham in the year 1643, to pay him no more 
Rent, but pay it to them, and plundered the tenant, 
& threatened him so much, as he was faine to leave 
his hous because he was my masters tenant ; and in 
theyeare 1644, Sir luoe dives [Sir Lewis Dives] who 
was governor of Abindon, feld as many elms of his 
there as was near worth fower score pound, and I 
hearing of went to Abindon, and the governor tok 
me prisoner, & told me he had my Masters Rents 
asigned to him, and charged me not to borow a peny of 
them; and in the year 1645 Sir William Campion (?) 
governor at Borstall, feld his trees in his grounds to 
the value of twentie ponds, and feched divers of 
tenant, horses and cartes from claydon, and when I 
did goe in hopes to redeeme them, they told me if 
they had my master they would slater him, for he 
was worse then those slaine beasts, for he hop [holp] 
to slay his own father ; and in the said year 1645 they 
came to my house, took away my horses, & shot one 
of my children, and when I went for Recompense, 
they told me it were no mater if I were hanged for 
serving such a master, and threatened to kill me ; 
and at Cromarsh in Oxfordsheare they feld most of 
his trees, and at Fifield at least fiftie ponds worth of 
elmes to mend their garison at Wallingford in the 


year 1644, and said if my master were there, they 
would cut & fell him as they did the trees : and 
about that tim those tenants sent their horses to 
claydon in hopes of saftie, and the lord Birone tuck 
them all away, and I went after him for them, and 
they told me, my Master was a Rebel! and wood not 
her me speak. Those horses were well worth neer 
a hundred ponds. Sir, these be sad storeys to 
relat to you, but being he is lick to suffer on the 
contrary sid, which I kno him innocent in, and for 
him to suffer for suffering such hard mesure before 
I will leave you to judge of his cause and pray to 
God to relese him, which is the hartie desire of your 
humble sarvant Will : Roades. 

' Sir if all these partickulars were made knon to 
the lords of the counsell I doe fully assur my self they 
would not let my master suffer by a Decimation, for 

J J T , 

all these partickulars are treue above mentioned.' 
A formal affidavit was afterwards signed by Roades, 
in which he told of a second visit to his house, 
when ' his stables & Lodging Roomes were pulled 
downe, and of the expense his master had incurred in 
repairing them, and he quotes another of the brutal 
Royalist jokes, that rankled in the memory of the 
sufferers for years after ; when at Claydon the soldiers 
drove away the poor people's cattle, and he went ' to 
intreate for them, they told him if his Master were 
boyled as the Beefe, ti were noe matter.' 

Gary writes to rally her brother on his depression March 10, 
of spirits : ' I am confident you will be exemted from ] 

T 2 


this new taxation for I can not hear of any in your 
condistion falls under this payment, & I hope you 
will not fare the worst of this kingdome . . . how- 
ever if this storme should not blow over, bot light 
uppon a rong parsone, yet sartainly it will not fall so 
boysterously over you more then over others, as to 
put you unto so great a fitt of mallincolly as to for- 
sake the oneing [owning] of claydon. The same 
complaint came from other counties, that men who 
had been falsely accused of delinquency in former 
years, were decimated as if they had never proved 
their innocency.' ' Mr. Darcye,' a landowner in 
Surrey, who like Sir Ralph had always sided with 
the Parliament, had 'his estate taxed at a tenth 
by Major Generall Kelsey.' The only pretence for 
this was that ' in the yeare 1644 upon misinformation 
that he was absent from his house some seizure was 
made of his rents by the committee of Surrey, which 
afterwards appearing to bee a mistake, the said seizure 
was immediately taken off.' Yet when this mistake 
was brought up against him twelve years after, the 
commissioners told him * that hee being already 
assessed it was not in theire power to give him reliefe,' 
but that he could appeal ' to the Protector and his 

Sir Ralph's friend, ' Anne Viscountesse Wilrnot,' 
and Countess of Rochester, 1 was also petitioning the 
Protector, with a very complicated grievance. Her 

1 Lord Wilmot had been created Earl of Rochester by Charles 
after the battle of Worcester, but this title was not recognised by the 


first husband, Sir Francis Henry Lee, 1 son of Lady 
Warwick, belonged to a staunch Parliamentary 
family ; her second husband, Lord Wilmot, was an 
equally strong Royalist, and was ordered to send in 
a particular of his estate in order to be decimated. 
His wife strongly objected to her jointure lands in 
Bucks, which represented good honest Puritan money 
never tainted with malignancy, being mixed up with 
Lord Wilmot' s estates and his misdeeds. ' And in 
regard her said husband hath noe Interest in her said 
Joynture Lands ' Lady Wilmot begged the Protector 
to stay ' all further proceedings touching or concern- 
ing the same & to discharge your petitioner from 
further trouble or attendance. 

Mun is on his way home ; Dr. Morley's son is 
travelling with him from the Hague. ' Mon ame se re- April 25, 
paist de plaisantes fantaisies par 1'espoir de jouir bien- 
tost de vostre veiie.' He arrived on the 8th of May ; 
Sir Ralph, with nervous caution, desired him to conceal 
his lodging, and sent his letters to ' Mr. Webster, a 
haberdasher.' The Doctor laughed at ' a secret now 
generally knowne,' for Mun had run up against ' my 
Lord Sherard's man, who knew him in Holland,' and 
Sir Ralph went up to town to meet him. 

Mrs. Westerholt got ready ' the orange chamber 
and the closett ' for their return home ; ' and if I had 
but sope that I might Wash,' she wrote, ; I woulde, 
when that were done, wish your worship at Claidon 
with all my heart.' This dearth of household stores, 
the result of Sir Ralph's virtuous retrenchments after 

1 Vol. i. p. 247. 


the decimation, would have confirmed Doll Leeke in 
her oft- expressed opinion, that a man could never 
manage his own housekeeping. The sugar he had 
sent down was 'fitter to spende in the house, then 
to preserve with,' and the housekeeper was fain 
' humbly to desire your worshipp to buy any powder 
sugar for preserving that may be very white, other- 
wise I shal have noe credit by doeing any fruite with 
it, nor your worshipp be pleasd in seeing it come to 
your table.' She is almost without currants & 
raisins, and the glasses sent down for preserving are 
too expensive and not suitable for the ' chery marma- 
lad.' She wants ' glasses without brims, being they 
are not sent to the table, & those are not soe soone 
broke, I desire to have 2 dozen of them.' Mrs. 
Westerholt was hard to please in this matter. 
Doctor writes : ' Nor Sis. Sherard, nor wife, nor 
Elms nor glassman could understand y r patterne for 
y r glasses, soe y u are to find out a new project.' 

Though Sir Ralph told Mun that he was stopping 
all his building, he had previously ordered 150,000 
bricks to be made for him ; and it was impossible at 
once to discharge his workmen. They gave the 
careful housekeeper a good deal of trouble in his 
absence. She had just sent Sir Ralph a lordly 
pasty, containing three dozen and five pigeons, and 
June 9, she took the opportunity of airing her woes. ' Sir, 
this last weeke cam Pursell the carpenter and his 
men, he only himselfe sate in the house, but all his 
men come in for their beere, and that not seldom nor 


in small proportions ; and by theire example all the 
workmen doe soe worry me for drinke, that though I 
many times anger them, and hourly vex myselfe, with 
deniing one or other of them, yet wee spend a great 
deale of beer three barells the last weeke. Sir, I 
beseech you be pleased to let me know your will, 
whether they shall have it still or noe, for I am very 
loath, alonge with the trouble that I have with them, 
to have that of the feare of youre displeasure. I wish 
with all my heart that your worshipps businesse 
woulde permit your presence here. Sir, I received a 
note to have Ralph Roads look to the gutters, I have 
spoke to him, and hee will doe it, but it did not raine 
in at all, the last time, of raine.' 

While Sir Ralph's fate still hung in the balance, 
and he was ' daily haunting the council,' the Stew- 
ard discovered, to his horror, that a serpent lurked 
amongst Sir Ralph's apple trees. His own gardener 
was telling stories against him, which were already the 
subject of village gossip, and might readily spread to 

The origin of the gardener's discontent was a 
true Briton's dislike of a foreign fellow-servant, 
whom he wrongly supposed to be a Papist. Roades 
writes how ' he fell upon Misho ... & had June 14, 

K * 

killed him . . . had he not been reskewed. Misho 
he tells me that Jayn and Mrs. Aris' mayd and 
the gardener did take a lader that Misho has to 
tie the aples, & put one part of one sid, and one 
part on the other sid the pailes, and so went over, as 


they pretended to look after a turkey's nest, but it 
was at night and Misho in the hous, and they did not 
aske him for the Key of the gate, but he comming in 
with his gun found them there, but his gun was not 
charged, but Misho told the gardener he did ill to goe 
over the pailes with that lader to teach people to doe 
so, but might as well have asked for the key, and then 
the gardener told him he had more to do ther then he 
had : and pressently puld him by the haire and 
scratched his face, and by report, beat him very much, 
took away his gun and told him you . . . did con- 
trary to the lord protectors order, and when I told 
him if he weere afrayd of Misho, he might a kep the 
gun in his chamber or gave it M rs Westerholt or 
my selfe, he told me you would not anser the keping 
of it in your hous, and as for using of you ill in words, 
I hear it is his continuall talke, dronck or sober, be- 
fore and sence : that you kept your son apurpos in 
holand be cause you might the better send money to 
your son as he might send it to the prince, which he 
sais he can prove ; and that you kep papisis in your 
hous, and keep showlibord playing and nin pins with 
other games in your house on Sondaies contrary to 
order, and this he will Justine. Mrs. Westerholt tells 
me as well as John Andrewes, and my son Miller 
... it is the whole towne talke I veryly beleeve he 
is a very dangerus fellow and cares not to tell a lie 
nether doth he fear an oath. I need not tell you what 
to saie to him but I beleeve good wordes will be best 
for the anger of such a felow is lick the radging of a 


mad dogg that cares not how he bits nor who. This 
morning being sondaie I went and spoak with him 
and told him you send to me to tell him you would 
have him com up to london to you ... I told him 
I would bespeak a place in the waggon but he told 
me he would not goe to you, he knew you ware angry 
with him, but he cared not for it, and that youhiered 
him to doe his sarvice in the contrie and if you had 
anything to saie to him you might send to him your 
mind as well as send for him or stay tell you com 
downe. I told him my busines was most in the con- 
trie but yf you sent for me I should goe without dis- 
put and then he told me . . . with divers idle words 
he thought it was to part with him, he told me he had 
been with you a quarter of a year and yf you turned 
him of you should pay him for half a year and that 
no sarvant of yours should pay him for he scorned to 
receve his wages from any hand but yours. Alas 
poore man I pray god give him grace with humilitie.' 
Mrs. Westerholt further reports that the gardener 
threatened the woman at the village public-house 
when she refused him drink, that ' she shoulde not 
sell ale long, & though she thought Sir Ralph Yer- 
ney would upholde here, hee (which was all the title 
he bestowed) should have enough to do to save him- 
selfe/ This report annoyed and alarmed Sir Ralph 
extremely. It was important that his son should 
appear with him to disprove any possible complicity 
with Royalist plots at the Hague, if questions should 
be asked by the Commissioners. Mun, meanwhile, 


heedlessly intent on his own diversions, wrote to his 
father that ' having by good fortune met with an old 
acquaintance of mine, one Mr. Hayre, Sir Ralph 
Hayre his brother, I could not denye the accompany- 
ing of him into Norfuck,' and vanished for some days, 
leaving no address. The gardener, however, went 
away very quietly. Roades gave him 11. more than 
his due, and the Parish Clerk undertook to water the 
flowers and ' turf the court.' Sir Ralph heard from 
Ball, the nurseryman, of another man ' most Emenent 
of any about, for neat houses, Mellons, Sparragus and 
Colyflowr, & all other ordenary things, tho' for graft- 
inge he hath not much judgmV His wages are not 
given, but Mrs. Elin Tippinge gives us some notion of 
what they would be, as her young gardener ' is tempted 
by great Squire Lea of Hartwell for 161. a year, and 
he hath even given us the go-by, & put me in much 
wrath, for I had gotten many laborers & thought to 
have made my garden so fin, & I am now defeatted.' 
Sir Ralph's affairs are going badly. After some 
six or seven weeks' delay, * the Protector & Councell ' 
deliver him over once more to the tender mercies of 
the Major- General and the County Commissioners, 
' to discharge or continue the Decimation as they 
thinke fit.' ; I laboured all I could,' he writes, ' to 
receive my doome from hence, but twas not their 
July 3, Lordshipps pleasure, it should bee soe.' He writes to 
Lady Gawdy : ' I am this day going downe uppon 
the businesse of my Decimation, but with soe little 
hopes of good successe, that were not Alisbery soe 


very neare to Claytlon, I should scarce goe thether 
about it, unlesse it were to give an oppertunity to 
the Major Generall & Comissioners to make their 
injustice shine more clearly, which you may guesse 
to bee a needlesse errand being most men are already 
fully satisfied in that point. The coachman stormes 
& vowes hee cannot staye a minute longer,' and so 
Sir Ralph's complimentary ending is perforce cut 

Some alternative seems to have been given him 
which he was unable to accept, the decimation was 
finally confirmed ; and he was forbidden to come to 
town for six months. ' It is as well a marke of your 
virtue as of your misfortune,' writes Lady Gawdy, 
1 and such as are so accompanyed with honour may 
bee received with les regrett.' 

Public interest now centred in the corning Par- 
liament, which would either confirm or destroy the 
authority of the Major-Generals. Dr. Denton writes 
from Overton, Cheshire, where he is visiting the 
Alports : ' Here is a new Major Generall come August is, 


downe, his name is Bridges, & I heere, labours to 
have a great influence upon elections, & that he 
hath laid a good foundation to his minde in Stafford- 
shire as he passed. Its thought he will rnisse of 
his ayme however. There is like to be strong & 
stout canvassinge. The sheriff & justices at the last 
sessions pitched on 4, to which they will unanimously 
adhere. Sir Wm. Brereton he stands on his owne 
leggs & labours might & maine, & the Major he 


intends to prefer others. Bradshaw writt not to be 
nominated nor chosen. Steel was in nomination, 
but hearinge he is designed for Ireland he is laid 
by. . . . The High Sheriffe hath beene here these 
2 daies, & we goe to his house on tuesday sennight, 
the knight will be chosen on Wenesday next & then 
you shall heare more. I heare Roles & Barcklay 
[' the last of the old judges '] are both dead. Here 
hath beene a strange rumor of the securinge of Vane, 
Bradshaw, Ludlow & others, but noe certainty, a 
little newes doth well here. All to all Vale, Yours 
WM. D.' He has seen a mountain ash for the first 
time. ' Here is a fine wild ash (which the South yeelds 
not) which beareth red berries (now ripe & last 
longe on the trees) as pleasant to looke uppon as 
cherries trees, only the fruit little bigger then hawes, 
the usuall ornament of flower potts & windowes of 
these parts. I am promised setts of som ; if I can 
gett them I will send som to old Raph the Provider 

In September Sir Roger writes from London of 

Sept. 6, the new House of Commons that ' some were for the 
taking in peices the whole body of the law.' 

Sept. 3, Penelope writes from Oxfordshire : ' There is 

such breaking up of houses and binding the people in 
there beads that a maid Sarvant as usally did ly in 
my hous will not stay in it when I have Fawler, and 
I ever had a man that lay in the hous bysids, but 
that will not satisfy them the time to com.' 

1656 29> ^ R a lp n na( ^ a ^ so keen visited. ' My house was 


lately searched by a captaine and 12 Troopers who 
obeyed theire orders but I must needs say with 
civility enough.' Lady Gawdy has not ' bine yett so 
much considerd as to have such potent viseters,' 
& she hopes they may never return to his prejudice. 

On the 30th Sir Roger writes again : ' The 
Parliament will take the grand businesse of the warr 
with Spaine into consideration and conclude it to be 
justly begunn, & necessary to be prosecuted. We 
have all reason to endeavour unity amongst ourselves 
since we are to be so farr engaged abroad against 
the common enemie the K. of Spaine and C. Steward. 
... If you think of a way wherein I may serve you, Oct. 6, 
I trust you will looke upon me as I am, wholly 
yours ; you know I am not fitt for publique em- 
ployment or to act openly upon any interest, but if 
you pleese to make use of me as a subsollicitor you 
shall finde me more faithful than able for your 

Sir Ralph took his decimation sadly to heart, and 
he was troubled by an eruption on his leg and thigh 
which would not heal. He was deluged with advice 
by his lady friends. Doll wished him to drink asses' 
milk while he sat in a bath of it up to the neck, for two 
hours twice a day ; a less tedious remedy is a lotion 
' so violant a drop would fech of the skin wher it 
touched ' ; and a dreadful old woman is recom- 
mended who has an infallible ' oyntment for yumurs.' 
He wants to go to town to petition the House, but 
his friends think that ' it is not safe for the foxe 

Oct. 29, to come to the Court.' Dr. Denton tells him that 
' J. Russell ' was arrested on somewhat similar 
business, and that though he ' was in y e Tower but 3 
daies it cost him 60/. Roger is labouring, though 
privately, yet very hartily by a good hand with Major 

NOV. 7, F[leetwood]. ... I need not tell you he is zealous 
in it, he was with me this morning to be informed of 
matters of fact, soe I showed your Petition. . . . 'Tis 
11 a clock & high time to bid you good night.' 

Sir Roger amidst the ' continual vexations ' of the 
session wishes Sir Ralph ' all the happiness that a 
Country life may afforde, and that I know by expe- 
rience to surpass all that this Citty can give ' ; but 
rural life had its own peculiar crosses. Sir Ralph 

NOV. 24, presents his ' service to M r Frem : Gaudy, & for 
his better encouragement in Planting tell him this last 
weeke one villanous Cow in one night spoyled my 
whole Nursery ; in earnest I had rather have given 
ten pounds, soe greate a fondnesse of these Trifles 
hath Yours etc. etc. R. V.' 

Dec. s, Uncle and Aunt Isham have been staying at 

Claydon, and Sir Ralph is visiting Edmund Denton. 
He writes from Hillesden : ' To Trusty Roger, I 
hope you received a letter from me of my acknow- 
ledgments for your greate care and harty endeavour 
to free Pilgarlick from Decimation. I must now 
redouble my thanks, for though the successe hath 
not answered your expectation, yet that cannot lessen 
my obligation. God forbid that your friendshipp & 
kindnesse should bee blotted out of my memory by 


the injustice & severity of other men. Xoe Sir tis 
clearly otherwise with mee.' 

The Doctor has his joke about the Decimation 
Bill which the friends of the Government pushed on 
while their opponents were spending Christmas with 
their families. ' Decimacon had but a poore Xtmas Dec. 29, 


dinner no sweet plum broath nor plum pye, for they 
chose that day to bring it in when armiger was in 
patinis, & soe it gott the liberty to be entertained 
(by) the house, though Glyn yet spake stoutly ag st 
it but was outvoted by 20 ty voices, if the house fill, 
much good may be hoped for, if not, actum est.' 

Doll Leeke writes : ' I fancied you might have Dec. 10, 


come this crismus but you have so totally forgot it that 
you do not compliment us so much as to wish your 
self with us. I wold be a littell severe but that I wold 
have you beleve that I have altred that part of my 
nature, and have resolved to be all my life kind, for 
now I am so ould ther is no dainger in profising it.' 

William Gape writes : ' Mally thanks you for 
your chine, variety maketh pleasure & therefore your 
cold one is so well accepted.' 

The 7th of January, 1657, Sir Roger writes : 
' Newes heer is but little . . . ther was a Debate in 
the Parl* this day about a reading of a bill the second 
time, for the Continuance of Decimations ; but after 
many speeches pro and con : it was put of till tomor- 
row morning, and that the L d Clapoole (if I write not 
his name right, I am sure you know whom I mean) 
spake against the Bill, & was for the casting of it 


out ; L d Branghall, M r Drake, Trevore, Whitlock of 

the same minde, & accordingly expresst themselves. 

Luke Robinson & Maj: Gen: Desburrough stiff for 

Jan. 15, the bill.' ' I am where I was, and as willing and 


as unable to serve you as ever. . . . The Parl* is 
adjourned till Munday next by reason of the Speaker's 
illness ; at which time if they doe meet, the Decima- 
tion is like to take up that day and to admitt of a 
warm debate. I presume you have heard of the 
villanous plott at Whitehall, I wish the plotters were 
discovered & executed ; the Lord preserve you & 
me from all such wicked men.' Dr. Denton writes 
Jan. 22, that ' Decimation is still sub Judice, there is great 


arguinge p. & con ; & it is hoped & beleeved that 
it will downe. A plot there was for certaine & that 
a desperate one, as to the person of the Protector, but 
to the Joy of the Cavalry not one Casualtie in it, that 
I can heare of as yett. It was acted Inter Don Alon : 
di Cardinez & some Levellers.' 

The long debate continued to excite attention ; 
on the 29th of January Sir Roger writes : ' I am in- 
formed that the ParP satt till about 7 at night, upon the 
bill of Decimation & yet did rise without a question 
[i.e. a division]. This morning they are to proceed 
upon it againe, & I think it will be the 6 th or 7 th 
time upon that account. Some reports doe speake, 
but its to be hoped not true, that an Army Remon- 
strance is like to appeare this day, & I presume 
cheifly upon that occasion. The Lord direct them 
for the best.' Sir Roger, as an old member of the 


Long Parliament, had seen enough of Army inter- 

Dr. Denton writes the same day : ' Decimation was 
stoutly canvassed yesterday, but noe result as yet ; 
a remonstrance or petition is expected from the Army.' 
By the evening he is able to add : ' This day the 
Major Generall's Bill had its doome, not only laid 
aside, but rejected uppon the Question ; att which they 
doe not a little storme. If your money be not paid, 
I ghesse you will consider of it before you doe pay it 
ao-aine.' Sir Roger also writes : ' The ParP hath Jan. 29, 


passed two votes this afternoone as to the Bill of 
Decimations ; the one is that it should not be read 
the second time ; the other that it should be rejected ; 
but neither passed without a division/ Dr. Denton 
writes on the 13th of February : ' I heare the Major 
Generalls are bringinge in a Bill themselves to take 
away Decimations & then have all title & succession 
which some beleeve will take effect ; they ayme att 
a test, by oath of abjuration or some other way/ 

Sir Roger writes again : ' On Monday last a bill or Feb. 26, 
Remonstrance or what you please to have it, was 
brought into the Par? by Sir Christopher Pack, part 
of it to this purpose that the prot[ector] be desired to 
assume the title of K : that he should nominat his 
successor, that the ParP should be Judge of their own 
members ; that no taxes shall be imposed on the 
people, but only by ParP ; that ther shall be another 
house, but neither named Lords or Upper House in 
the bill, but only another house, & as I am informed 



the number should not exceed 70 good disciples I 
hope all & 40 to be the lowest number for a house. 
Tomorrow a fast is appointed to be kept, wher the 
prayers but not advise of 5 Ministers are desired, 
for they are not to preach but pray. The men are to 
be Owen : Manton : Car oil : Nye and Gelaspie a 
Scotchman : thus much for newes, for the great feast & 
banquet with which the Par! 1 was most sumptuously 
entertained at Whitehall on fryday last, I know the 

Feb. 26, whole kingdome almost rings of it.' 'The bill for King- 
ship goes on,' Dr. Denton writes, ' notwithstanding 
Lambert is highly against it, not without some pas- 
sion, others say peevishness; Wolseley & Fiennes for it.' 

March 12, Sir Roger continues his report : ' Sir, . . . you 
mention'd a vote not longe since made in reference 
to the M. Gen. which you desired to have. I 
can not give it you in the same words as it was 
voted, but I shall give you the sense of it. As for 
the Major Gen ls if they were wounded at it, it 
was thorow the sides of Decimation, the bowells 
wherof were peirced by a Negative vote of the par 11 : 
viz : that the bill which was brought in to confirme 
that peice of Tyranny should not be so much as 
coinitted, and positively rejected. The Major Gen. 
were not so much as named, but sublata caus& you 
know what followed. I suppose that the 6 mounths 
banishment is now expired : I am sure I am allmost 
ready to expire my last, being so long detained in so 
bad a place from so good company as your self, but 
I hope the time of redemption is not farr of : that 


ther shall be another house to give check to this I 
presume you are not ignorant, and the Maj. Gen: are 
as like Lambs upon this account as they were Lyons 
upon the other, for they expect some amends by this, 
expecting to be in the number of those that shall be 
elected Lords by the L d Prot. for that house. Diverse 
of the Courtiers are pleased to absent themselves from 
the par? upon this occasion, for they are ashamed 
some of them to appeare for that cause against which 
they have been formerly so violent, and to speake 
against it were to speake against their own conscience, 
or at least wise interest. Excuse my length and in 
short conclude me (though but weake and unable to 
serve you) yet entirely Yo r own.' 

Sir Ralph had no lack of warm congratulations, 
and we can almost hear Moll Gape's loud hearty 
voice as she leant over the good apothecary's shoul- 
der and dictated her message : ' Molly rejoyceth 
that the sixe months are expiring, and doubly re- 
joyceth because shee shall then see S r Ralph, all of 
him, his whole tenne parts reunited, not a collop left 
behinde to feede y r Dawes, yett shee doth not wish 
that what they have already may choake them & 
therein disagrees from S r , Y r true servant, W M GAPE.' 

And thus Cromwell's military tribunals were 
suddenly swept away. It is impossible to read these 
detailed accounts of the vexation and expense 
they brought upon individuals, uniting men of 
such opposite politics as Sir Justinian Isharn and 
Sir Ralph Verney by a common grievance, without 

TJ 2 


realising how much they did, in a Puritan county like 
Bucks, to reconcile the country squires on the Par- 
liamentary side to a Stuart restoration. There were 
few indeed who would not have joined with Thomas 
Stafford, when he made it his ' dayly petition to our 
heavenly Father, and gracious protector' that He 
would grant us l a speedy deliverance out of the 
power of the Major Generalls, and restore us to the 
protection of the common law.' 

r ^n(rrL( 

i ^ i -// ' 

from a htiinl i mi a I (i(<iyei<>n ^/J,>/t.'i. 

f/ - / < ' ^ 




' But if she cannot love you, sir ? ' 
' I cannot be so answer 'd ' 

' Sooth but you must.' 

Twelfth Night. 

IN May 1656 Edmund Verney returned home, a young 
man in his twentieth year. He had an affectionate 
and pleasant temper, he was tall and handsome, but 
somewhat clumsily and heavily built, and his awk- 
wardness of manner and slovenliness of dress were a 
great trouble to his precise and gentlemanlike father ; 
' Much more will be expected from Mun,' he wrote, 
'than from such youths as have gonn noe father 
then Oxford or Cambridg, or at most the Inns of 

Never had Mary been more sadly missed than in 
this fresh chapter of the family life, when Sir Ralph 
had to make a home and a career for his eldest son. 
No one welcomed him back with the womanly love 
which mother and sister would have lavished upon 
him, no one was there to see that in taking a son's 
place at Claydon. his habits did not clash with his 


father's ; and so the home-coming was not as success- 
ful as it might have been, after the joy of the first 
meetings and greetings had subsided. Sir Kalph 
himself had been an ideal son, never thinking of his 
own amusements, if he could share in Sir Edmund's 
duties and lighten his cares. Edmund arrived in the 
midst of the worries and vexations of the Decimation, 
but it did not occur to him that these things were any 
concern of his. He looked upon himself as the heir 
to a fine estate, and he felt annoyed when every 
request for money was met with a dismal recital of 
his grandfather's debts, and the burdens under which 
Sir Ralph was groaning. Careless of expense, and 
ignorant of business, Mun was far from appreciating 
the sacrifices his father had made for his education, 
in the days of his greatest poverty, or how hardly he 
now raised the 20/. or 50/. which slipped through the 
son's fingers so rapidly. 

Sir Ralph was full of large schemes for the im- 
provement of Claydon, in which Mun took but little 
interest, and he thought, not unnaturally, that with 
less outlay in building and planting, his father might 
afford to give him a proper allowance, to enable him 
to be as well dressed, and as well mounted, as the 
other young sparks who splashed up the mud at a 
fashionable hour in Hyde Park. 

Sir Ralph justified himself as a father and land- 

Dec. s, owner always does under these conditions. ' As 

for my buildings, I see I have already lost one great 

part of the contentment I tooke in them, which was 


that you should perceive that what money I did 
expend, was layd out to your advantage, to make the 
house more handsome and convenient for you and 
yours ... I must confesse I shall not debarre my- 
selfe of any expence that I thinke moderate, to supply 
any extravagancies that you either have or shall 
committ, and yet, if any misfortune should befall you, 
noe man liveing should more readily and cheerfully 
suffer with and for you.' 

The boy had his own vague ambitions too, 
although he rarely confided them to Sir Ralph : 

' I do positively affirme,' he wrote to his intimate 
friend Dr. Hyde, ' that hetherto my father hath not 
given me any education whereby I might be rendered 
accomplisht in body and mind ; nay further, though I 
am naturally inclined to be that which the Italians 
call un Yertuoso, hee never did so much as counte- 
nance mee therein, but hath continually opposed me. 
Considering these premisses aforesaid my industrie 
will labour under a greate difficulty of acquiring a 
title above an honest elder brother, which now a 
dayes is accounted but little above a silly fellow, yet 
I think myselfe capable of deserving much better, 
and I hope without vanitie. . . . My father is cour- 
teous and kind enough to me ... and seemes very 
well pleased with mee, and would be more yet, if I 
could dispose my humour to affect, what I hate, 
Rusticq matters and effeminate things all which 
aforesaid I do contemplate with some wonder.' 

The relations and friends had only one course to 


recommend in every letter written to welcome the 
lad of nineteen home ; they wished that he might soon 
find a wife. Sir Ralph wearily reckoning up debts 
and interest, portions and mortgages, decimations and 
taxes (till he convinced himself that he had only 
125/. a year to live upon) saw no way out of the 
family labyrinth except by his son's marriage with 
an heiress maid or widow it mattered very little 
but wealthy she must be, and she would be, of 
course, good. Of Sir Ralph's seven children two 
only were living, and after them Brother Tom was 
heir to Clay don ; it was therefore a matter of dy- 
nastic importance to the large family circle that 
Edmund Yerney should be suitably ' matched.' All 
the uncles and aunts began to bestir themselves, and 
Edmund's godmother, old Lady Warwick, who in a 
previous stage of existence had provided him with a 
silver porringer, and a light-blue figured satin coat, 
now produced a very young grand-daughter with a 
portion, as an eligible bride. Roades was not to be 
June 3, left out of the chorus of wellwishers : ' I am glad Mr. 
Edmund Verney is com safe to London. I pray doe 
me so much favour as to present my sarvice to him. 
I could wish I were as Abraham's sarvant to provide 
a Rebecka for him, but senc I am not worthy of such 
a calling, I will pray to my god to bless him with a 
Rebecka in nature if not in name.' The great match- 
June 10, maker Aunt Sherard improves the occasion : ' My 

1656 . . 

desir is that your son may meet with a good wife and 
a portion answerabal to your owne desires. ... I 


hope both your selfe and son hath soe much resone 
and religgon in you, that you will pries that which 
is most to be valewd, which is vertue.' 

Mun took a languid interest in these projects ; ' si 
je me mariois,' he wrote, ' ce que je n'ai pas encore envie 
de faire, je veux prernierement voir quelques choses ; ' 
but when money was running low, marriage meant 
independence, as his father would be bound to make 
some separate provision for him, besides the promised 
wealth that his wife was to bring with her. So being 
' fancy free ' he was ready to leave the choice of the 
particular heiress wholly to his father ; ' mais je ne 
voudrois souiller mon sang, avec une creature de 
basse condition, pour avoir avec elle 100,000 livres de 
rente ; j'aimerois mieux chercher ma fortune par mon 
espee, avec une fille noble et vertueuse.' 

After spending a few months at Clay don, Mun an- 
nounced his wish to live in London till he married ; 
Sir Ralph regretted but did not oppose it ; he him- 
self was often up and down, and there were relations 
in town ready to be kind to his son. ' Methinkes Mun Dec. 27, 
lives wonderful orderly here,' the Doctor reports. ' I 
doe not see that any one comrade hath been with him 
since he came. He keepes at home all day till candle 
light, and then we have his comppany till bed time 
and much more free and merry then formerly.' But 
Sir Ralph was uneasy to hear that at Mrs. Bellinger's, 
of the sign of the Eagle and Child (his lodgings near 
the Old Bailey), Mun was known by the aliases of 
Theodore Berry and Brewer, and that he had been 


heard of at Woolwich, and in Hertfordshire, when Sir 
Ralph had known nothing of such expeditions. The 
father complained that his indulgence was only abused. 
' Mun, I see the same sunn that softens Wax, hardens 
clay, and, since tis soe (to be short with you), I 
shall considder you as little as you doe me ; ' the son 
retorted that he had asked for nothing unreasonable, 
' mais c'est que vostre naturel est tel, que vous aimez 
a prolonger les choses.' 

Matters had reached this pitch when, on Christ- 
mas Day, 1656, the foolish lad wrote his father a 
letter ' that had been better unwritt ; ' Sir Ralph 
justly described it to be ' as false as insolent.' Deeply 
pained, he sent it with his answer to Dr. Denton, 
begging him to forward the one, and burn the other 
1 presently, for I would not have his folly knowne to 
anybody.' Dr. Denton had no weak indulgence for 
wrong-doing, but his sense of humour and his ha- 
bitual self-command prevented his blundering into 
mere bursts of passion. Mun's letter was no surprise ; 
the lad had shown it to him when he had been pour- 
Jan. 21, ing out his grievances. ' Being horribly wroath,' 
Doctor writes, ' I did tell him that it was impossible 
but that you should highly resent it. ... I am thus 
far beholdinge to him, he heard me patiently and I 
think doth not take it ill from me though I spare him 
as little as I doe others. ... I had a very kind letter 
from him last night but maugre all his courtshipps 
its my business this day to study ugly bitter currish 
things to say to him at night, for if I understand him 


rightly, he is soe to be treated, and will worke more on 
him then great reason if contrary to his sense. Cou- 
rage, Mons r ; you may be happy togeather for all this ; 
it's but a peccadillo, and if you master him here he is 
your owne for ever.' 

Dr. Denton knew that the father, though his 
heart ached with love and disappointment, was in 
danger of driving his son from him by the stern ex- 
pression of his righteous displeasure. He pleaded 
with him to treat Mun liberally in money matters, 
and said all the kind and wise things he could on the 
lad's behalf. But Mun must have had a bad time of 
it when they met that night ' at a taverne.' The 
doctor spoke to him plainly about his wrong courses, 
and pictured to him what would have happened if 
ever his father had dared to speak so wrongly and 
disrespectfully to his grandfather : ' after this rate 
was our discourse and yett ... we parted very very 
lovingly.' Sir Ralph was not appeased, ' yet for his 
deare mother's sake I would gladly love him but 
hee will not let me,' said the poor wounded father. 
Dr. Denton spoke to Mun again : ' We had a smart Jan. 29, 
bout last night till past 11 o'clock . . . his letter 
to you I hope will be full of douceur with out a 
stinge at the tayle of it. He had as good as I could 
give him, and I please myselfe to thinke I was 
cock of him and doe beleeve that now he wishes his 
finger had been in the fire when he writt it, yet I 
find it is a hard chapter to recant it.' 

Edmund wrote the next day to his father : ' I am 


exceedingly afflicted to have said anything that hath 
caused your anger, wherefore if you vouchsafe to sig- 
nifie the contrary by the next, you will make my 
hart leape for joy.' 

Sir Ralph thought this a wholly inadequate apo- 
logy ; it was not his anger, but his son's miscon- 
duct that was in question. He wrote back stiffly : 
Feb. i, ' When I see a submission and sorrow more suited to 

1 fi^7 

your crime, I thank God I can forgive it, though you 
have most highly and strangly provoked your Father. 

E. v. f 

The little folded note, marked by Sir Ralph as 
' returned to him undelivered,' lies now beside the 
doctor's letter. That unwearied peace-maker was 
bent upon winning for Mun a freer and more gracious 
pardon : 

Feb. 5, ' Seeing you left it to me.' he wrote, ' to keepe or 

deliver the letter, I cannot soe soone forgett the 
Councill I gave you that if he wrote to you in such 
a way as that you might with Honour to Paternal 
dignity and power, embrace him againe without 
further ravellinge into the story of disagreement then 
to doe it, and to doe it hartily, and to returne him 
kindness even with London measure.' He warns his 
father that if he is to play ' Thomas Aquinas and dis- 
tinguish nicely,' he will drive his son to justify him- 
self. ' It is much the better way in my opinion to 
take every reasonable excuse to be friends without 
words . . . though he doth not tell mee soe, yett I 
know he must want money ... he cannot live like 


a chameleon, therefore let it be your glory to passe by 
offences and the sooner the more honorable. I have 
but this one touch more and I have done. Suppose 
you should stand uppon a submission more suitable 
to his crime, and he should not answere your expec- 
tacon, I will not aske you what can you doe to him 
(for I know you may do what you will) but what will 
you doe to him ? You cannot but suffer with him : 
even your makinge of it publique will be a torment to 
you, and to take notice of it, and not goe through stitch 
with it, it will be an allay to your sovereignty. Go, 
kisse and be friends, which is the advice of W m D.' 

One or two loving notes had arrived meanwhile 
from Mun, anxious about his father's continued silence. 
Sir Ralph was not a man to forgive or forget easily ; 
the very steadfastness of his nature was against it, 
but he could sacrifice his pride and his own opinion 
at the bidding of so true a friend : ' Well D r you Feb. 9, 


may doe what you will with me, and now you have 
a sufficient trial of it. I have written Mun another 
letter in another straine. I have not at all touched 
upon the businesse, for I confesse I could not doe it 
without some such sharpnesse as would not please 
you, therefore I rather chose to let it sleepe in silence/ 
He pours out to the doctor all the good advice he is 
not allowed to give his son, to whom ' God grant more 
witt and grace hereafter/ To Mun himself he writes 
affectionately and naturally, asking after his health, 
and about the trees he had ordered from Holland, 
promising to supply him with money, and abstaining 


from a single word of reproach for the past or of 
warning for the future. Mun felt the generosity of 
this silence, and Sir Ralph reaped his reward. Small 
differences of opinion arose again at times, when their 
interests seemed to be conflicting, but in the intimate 
and unbroken correspondence of the succeeding thirty- 
three years no such letter as the one ' that had better 
been unwritt ' ever interrupted the affectionate rela- 
tions between them. 

Sir Ralph writes again cheerfully about a 

Feb. is, favourite dog of Mun's at Claydon. ' Madame is 
courted by all the currs in Towne, she hath chosen 
the ugliest of them all, soe that shortly heere is likely 
to bee a rare Breed. Tell me how your Bodies fit 
you. Adieu, your loving father R. V.' Herr Schott 
had come to London from Utrecht, and the ' bodies,' 
at 30/. the pair, which Mun still wore, were the 
heaviest of his expenses. 

The doctor is anxious to introduce Mun into good 
society, but he finds his clothes sadly shabby for polite 
visits. London is very full and smart, and ' tis 
generally talked and beleeved that within few dales 
the Protector shall be crowned. Mun is in most 
pitifull equipage, noe trappings at all.' Sir Ralph 
' must supply and supply and supply, which is and 
shall be the burden of all my songs till it be done.' 

:Feb. 14, The doctor gives an amusing account of their 

visit to ' Barronet Luckyn's,' where the old man fell 
in love with the daughter of the house if the youth 
did not. ' Havinge beene longe harpinge uppon an 


unpleasant stringe, I cannot without joy tell you 
that I am labouringe for a more merry spinne, and to 
that end Mun and I and Mr. Mainell went last night 
about 6 o'clock, a wooinge, where in earnest I saw 
her that pleased me very more than ordinary well, 
yea extraordinary well. A pure virgin eighteen 
years old, tall, slender, straight, handsome, with as 
much sweetness in her aspect as I know not more any- 
where, so that out of my small skill in phisiognomy, 
she must needs be well humoured. I saw her only 
in her hood, so that I cannot tell the colour of 
her haire, but I ghesse it to be towards flaxen ; if I 
might pick and choose among all I know at first 
sight, I know none like her. Before I parted I said 
what I thought was fitt, and told her that if Sir 
William Luckin had any services to command me, I 
would [wait] on him when and where he pleased.' 

Sir William Luckyn of Messing Hall belonged to 
an Essex family, which had intermarried with the 
Grimstones, and Sir William's second son eventually 
succeeded to Gorhambury, where Sir Ralph and his 
wife had so often visited Lord and Lady Sussex. 
Lady Luckyn sent ' her sister on purpose to dine at 
the Doctor's to see Mun and make enquiry of him 
and of the estate.' Doctor ' gave her her lesson,' but 
' has heard no more since.' 

' Dear Ralph,' wrote Dr. Denton. ' In the first March 12, 

1 / c fj 

place I am of your opinion, that I am a person of 
very great judgment and soe great that I cannot 
erre, and now being seated in my infallible chaire, I 


tell you that I never thought I could doe any busi- 
ness soe well as your worshipp, especially your owne, 
as this of Luckin's is, and therefore a few instructions 
would have beene welcome, but let that passe. I have 
done what I can to keep the affaire alive, and that it 
may not chill on our part, my lady is still ill. Sir 
William's man told [my cozen] that his master 
would scruple at noe porcion betweene 5 & 10,000/., 
soe hee could have an estate answerable, especially a 
good lusty, present maintenance. As to this point, 
a little of your mind would do noe hurt, and I shall 
not looke on it at all as any affront to my infallible 
judgment. You must never thinke in such a matter 
to truck and higgle with 100. per an : for 1,000/. 
money. Certainly its fitt Mun should have one suit 
to make him looke like a gentleman, which he hath 
not. I thinke it would be a hard vy betweene his 
best suit and my serge d' 8d. Besides he has noe 
trappings,' he repeats, ' as hat, stockins, shoes, &c., 
en la mode.' 

Sir Ralph does not rate his son's taste or his 
personal attractions very high 'Mun is not at all 
nice either in point of Bewty or of Breeding, nor 
must that woeman bee soe that marries him,' but fair 
as Miss Luckyn is, Mun is not to be stirred to any 
enthusiasm about her. He writes to his father : 
Feb. 19, ' Mon oncle . . . m'amena dans Hoburne, et la me 
donna une veue innocente de la damoiselle, laquelle 
je n'ai pas voulu presumer de declarer, qu'elle me 
plaise ou deplaise, mais ai reserve' cela a vostre 


jugement, car ma jeunesse n'est pas si folle et 
inconsideree que d'entreprendre un acte de cette 
consequence sur ma cervelle seule.' Sir Ralph is 
pleased with this proper attitude of mind, and will 
' the more willingly comply in anything that's reason- Feb. 23, 
ably desired ; and if it bee your fortune to marry her, 
God grant shee may bee as discreet and vertuous as 
your mother, and make you noe worse a husband 
then your loving father.' Mun would not, for his 
own choice, marry at present ; he is seized with a 
desire to continue his education, and he sends for 
his music books from Claydon: ' J'ai pris Kersey pour 
m'enseigner la Richemetique, a 20 s par mois, et il ne 
vient que 3 fois la septmaine ; les arts et les sciences 
sont bien cheres icy, ils ont besoing d'estre bonnes.' 
The same terms are charged by masters of the violin 
and the lute. 

Lady Hobart now attacks Sir Ralph about 
Mun's clothes : ' I find your son very willing to March 5, 
conform to what you will and speeks with the hyist 
respeck of you that ever child did but truly I 
am much ashamed to see how he goos, not at all 
lick your son, for he has nothing neu lick any other 
young man, neither hat nor clos, nor lining, for he 
has suits I dar say your man wars beter. Pray let 
me beg of you to let me mack him but 6 shurts, and 
half a dosen bands and cofs, and put him a letill into 
the town fason, but all shall be plan, and I will dres 
his legs, all ribens ar left at the brechis, so that is 
much saved. I will deu nothing progally [prodi- 



gaily] but net, I will have but on sut. I hop if you 
war hear you wold as much dislick it as I deu ; I 
look on him as the top of my kindred, and if he war 
one set in a net way I am confident he wold kep it, 
he wold lick it very wil war it got all to his hand, 
but his genios does not ly to lock after it ; I am 
confident I could make him a sparck. He tacks 
anything I say wil, and I chid him for going so 
carlesly.' Sir Ralph has a crushing reply to make : 
' Now for Mun's linnen, if hee weare his night sheirts 
when hee goes into company, neither he nor they can 
be commended by you or any other that sees them, 
but my Aunt Dr. knowes hee had very good whole 
sheirts and 2 halfe sheirts made within this moneth, 
which I am sure canot yet bee worne out ; but if 
they were he hath not wanted money to supply any 
such defect. He hath had four score and ten pounds 
for this London journey, but cozen I pray doe not 
speake of this, for 1 know tis fitter and better to have 
mee thought a hard Father then hee a simple sonne.' 
To Dr. Denton he writes : ' Easter terme is the 
fittest time to buy him cloathes, for then all fashions 
alter ; but if the wooing goe on sooner, then tis fit to 
cloath him presently.' 

Dancing lessons from Moulin, a fashionable 
French master, are strongly recommended ; Mun 
agrees ' affin d'avoir une meilleure mine et grace 
dans mon porternent, et une meilleure addresse en 
abordant ou accostant une personne ; ' but his steel 
bodies make dancing almost too painful, although ' il 


n'y a personne qui puisse endurer une peine conti- 
nuelle avec plus de patience que moy, car j 'y ay este 
accoustume toutte ma vie.' The luckless lad has 
again run out of funds : ' A certain verse in holy 
scripture says, he who is wanting in one point fails 
in all now I am in want of money, and certainly of 
everything else also.' 

The young lady had not again been visited ; 
Lady Luckyn had been ill, and Edmund had been 
' in the hands of Mr. Wiseman, the surgeon.' ' Truly 
I might compare my afflictions to Job's,' he wrote to 
his father, ' I have taken purges and vomits, pills and 
potions, J have been blooded, and I doe not know 
what I have not had, I have had so many things.' 
Sir William Luckyn is still inclined to treat : ' He 
seemes to be mighty fond of his daughter, and talks 
much of good allowance that they may live plenti- 
fully in their youth ; ' but Dr. Denton writes ' that March 5, 
they have heard of your noble Bro. Tom, and that 
your sisters live but in a meane condicion, which is 
not very acceptable newes.' He is ordering a new suit March 20, 
for Mun ' at a very short warning ' ' because he is to 
meet his Mrs. to-morrow in the Temple Garden,' and 
he is earnestly trying ' to mend his addresse which is 
but very indifferent,' as well as to put him ' in better 
cloaths.' Mun submits to the clothes, but fails to put 
on even the decent semblance of a lover ; ' I beleeve 
myselfe of that temper,' he writes to his own friend 
Dr. Hyde, ' that I can easily break off, without heavy 
sorrow, when I see I cannot love with any conveni- 


ency,' ' I am of your opinion that you will not run 
mad for love,' Hyde replies, ' yet I must still tell 
you that it is a passion not to be played with, neither 
ought you to presume on your owne strength soe 
farre as to try it.' He advises that Edmund should 
agree with his father about settlements ' before you 
have loved and liked, or else vast and horrid incon- 
veniences may follow.' 

Sir Ralph, who might grumble, but who did 
everything that was generous, had commissioned the 
Doctor to buy his son a saddle-horse. Prices are 

June is, very high in town. ' There is scarce anythinge worth 
looking uppon under 25/., and those but indifferent 
neyther but Doctor will prog and prowl.' He has 

July 4, been asked 1001. for a gelding, ' they pack them so 

1 AK7 

fast into France that now it is but aske and have, 
even double their value.' He ' could fill a volume 
with stories of hunting after Jades in Hyde Park and 
Smithfield,' but he gets one at last for 161. 10s. Qd. 

It was a great happiness to Mun this summer to 
renew ' his infant acquaintance and friendship with 
Peg and Moll Eure,' and to be introduced to Peg Fust. 
Mun, standing about in Lady Luckyn's drawing- 
room, in a stiff new suit, beside the flaxen beauty 
in a hood, cudgelling his brains for compliments and 
unable to recall anything but the Doctor's caustic re- 
marks upon his manners, was ah utterly different 
creature from the Mun chatting with this trio of 
charming cousins, treated by them with frank, 
sisterly kindness. There are no dreadful ' treaties ' 


now in the background, and he is quite at his ease. 
He and the Eure girls have a hast of childish 
memories in common, of their life in France, which 
they recall to each other, and explain to Peg Fust. 
Margaret and Mary can give him the latest gossip 
from Blois, of Prevost, of Madame Testard, of the 
dancing-master and the Doctor, and others who were 
tiresome enough in reality, but as interesting to dis- 
cuss afterwards as the characters of a story-book. 
They remember the fun of the fair with all Luce's 
prudent anxieties, and the pleasures of the grape- 
gathering ; but they agree that there is nothing 
after all so delightful as an English summer, and 
plan frequent meetings at Claydon and Whitsondine. 
There is an exchange of notes when the cousins 
separate, and Mun earnestly desires a continuance 
of the intimacy ' which began in ower most inno- 
cent and tender yeares.' The wilful beauty, Peg, 
'Pussy's Mad Eure' as she calls herself, had just 
refused a very eligible suitor, but she chooses to be 
specially gracious to Mun. When we meet again ' wee 
will be passing merry ; Peg Fust,' she adds, ' though 
it is not usuall with hir to adore strangers, tho 
very disarving, it (yet) realy she saith that ther was 
something of exterordinary sivility in you which 
makes her much glory in your acquaintance.' Such 
jokes are not at all in Mary's line, but she writes a 
proper little note of cousinly civility. ' Sir, I cannot 
but esteem it a very great honour to renew that ac- 
quaintance with you which time and far distance hath 


worne something out of our memories, but cannot blot 
out the obligations I have ever receaved from you, es- 
pecially the last which I must ever owne as a very 
great favor and beseech you to bring these impertinen- 
cies as low as I would doe any thought of being lesse 
then, Sir, your most humble servant, Mary Eure.' 

. Miss Luckyn showing as little zeal as Mun did for 
any further interviews, Sir Ralph made another se- 
rious attempt at a ' match ' for his son, and this time 
' the not impossible she ' was Alianora Tryon. Her 
ancestor, Peter Tryon, was a Protestant who had fled 
from Alva's persecution in the Netherlands. The 
girl's grandfather, Sir Samuel Tryon, made a baronet 
in 1620, bought the property of Halstead from old Sir 
Thomas Gardiner, Gary Verney's father-in-law, and 
was High Sheriff of Essex in 1650. His widow, Eliza- 
beth Eldred, married Sir Edward Wortley, Lady War- 
wick's brother, and report said that as guardian Sir 
Edward had wasted the estate, and had arranged a mar- 
riage between his little stepson and his niece, Eleanor 
Lee, Lady Warwick's daughter by her first husband, 
for whom Sir Samuel had no liking. Two children, 
Samuel and Alianora, were born of this marriage. 

Alianora, mercifully called Ellen or Nell in daily 
life, was staying with her young cousin, Sir Harry 
Lee (one of Margaret Eure's many suitors), and his 
mother, now Countess of Rochester. A visit to 
Ditchley was one of the happiest memories of Sir 
Ralph's childhood. It was in itself a liberal educa- 
tion for Mun to see the fine house and its treasures, 


and it was delightful to think of renewing such old 
intimacies. Sir Ralph was as much charmed with 
Mistress Try on as the Doctor had been with Mistress 
Luckin. He wrote ' to the Countesse of Warwick. 
Madame, Finding that the young Lady was come Aug. 10, 
to Ditchley on Tuesday the 28th [July] my selfe 

and sonne went thether to attend her, where we had 

soe free and favourable a reception both from my Lady 
Rochester and Sir Harry Lee that we stayed till the 
Mounday after ; and, had I yeelded to my sonn's 
desires, wee had still been there. For he is soe much 
taken with mistress Trion that if you please to suffer 
him to bee her servant, he will ever acknowledge the 
favour. . . . The truth is, Madame, she is every way 
soe well accomplished, and carries her selfe soe well 
and soe discreetly (even beyond her age) that she hath 
already soe charmed us both. ... I shall be confident 
that Heaven hath a perticuler blessing in store for 
mee and for my family, in providing such a person 
for my sonne ; who though hee is noe courtier, nor 
noe complimentall man, yett I hope hee will endeavour 
by the reallity and constancy of his affection to make 
some recompence for his want of ceremonie ; and if 
my care or kindnesse can contribute anything towards 
her happinesse, my obligations to your Ladyshippe 
will be a sufficient Tye, to make me doe my utmost, 
and (if it were possible), even beyond the power of, 
Madame, your most humble, most faithful, and most 
obliged servant, R. V.' 

Beautifully balanced phrases, but a little prema- 


tare. Lady Warwick replies at great length, with 
Aug. 25 real affection for ' Nell.' She first refers to ' that 
friendship that was many years begonne among us,' 
and continues, ' I finde by your letter that your selfe 
and sone have very good thoughts of my grandchild ; 
I must thanke you for it, for i doubt she cannot de- 
sarve itt, being so yonge and having apparede so lettill 
in the worlde, that she must nedes be wantinge in 
many things yett. I have righton to hur and tolde 
hur that i very much lyke of this mach for hur. I 
should not ventir hur so sone into the worlde but 
that I am confident you will supply hur in all that 
wants, and be by your advise and councell bouth 
father, mother and all, for she is younge and I hope 
of so good an nature that you may fram hur to what 
you can desire. P.S. My daughter Rochister sath as 
much good of your sone as can be sade, and I hade a 
letter from my grandchilde, and I find she lykes him 
very will but hath not confidence i believe to till mee 
she is in love with him, but I presume hur lykeinge 
will increse daily, . . . your sone cannot but bee 
very good, cominge from cuch a stoke of goodness.' 
Aug. 29 My Lady Rochester is equally cordial ' For your 
sonne I may say it without flattering him, hee appeares 
too mee so excellent a young man, and carried himselfe 
with that prudence and discretion all the while of his 
being at Dichley both to his M rs and everybody els, 
that hee must in justice gaine both my high esteeme 
and all that doe belong too mee ; you are strangly 
hapy in him and truly I hope you wille be in her 
when she is yours.' 


In the beginning of September, a childish little 
letter, much disfigured by blots, arrived from the 
young lady in which she tells ' Mr. A erney ' that he 
has rated her merits too highly, ' yet I must needs say 
I see soe much of integrity in all your professions, 
this littell time I have knowne you, that I am bound 
to confes I have reson to acknoledg you have obledg 
mee to bee, sir, your friend and servant, Elen Try on.' 

Sir Ralph has ordered Mun some more courting 
clothes, the Doctor has chosen a suit ; ' there are Sept. a, 
other fasshioned Ribands worn beside these, but fitt 
for none but footmen or a Morrice dauncer, and would 
not have pleased grave Mons r Mun, and therefore I 
gave my vote for these.' Edmund is honestly anxious 
to play his part, but he does not hurry back to 
Ditchley ; there were no memories of Blois to facilitate 
conversation with Alianora, and the ' homekeeping ' 
girl had but ' homely wits.' All through the summer 
the details of the marriage settlements were being 
discussed between Sir Ralph and Mr. John Carey, 
who conducted the business on the lady's side ; 
there is a whole bundle of papers at Claydon of pro- 
posals and counter-proposals ; and among them Sir 
Edward Wortley's promise ' to give my neece Ellenor 
Tryan, my ^Yife's Grandchilde, five hundred pounds, 
and a hundred pounds a yeare for five yeares,' her 
eventual portion being 5,000/. 

In October, after a very sickly summer. Sir Ralph 
has his house full of guests ; ' you need not invite 
man, woman, child nor horse to Claydon,' wrote the 


Doctor, ' they'l come without sending for.' Sir Ralph 
writes to Mr. Carey to excuse Mun's absence from 
Oct. is ' his mistress.' ' I have had very many of my kin- 
dred heere for 10 or 12 daies together, and divers of 
them not having seene my sonne since his infancie 
pretend they came now heather purposely to be 
acquainted with him, so that he is still theire prisoner 
heere, or else he had not been such a stranger at 
Ditchley. Yesterday one coachfull went away, but 
returne againe next weeke, and then I beeleeve they 
will be gon togeather, in the meane time I hope his 
stay heere will not bee misinterpreted by any, since 
as the case stands it cannot hansomly bee avoyded.' 
Alionora's peace of mind was not disturbed. ' For 
Mistress Tryon,' writes Mr. Carey, ' I can discover 
nothing of her mind against what is desired by your 
selfe and us heare, only she is youngue and not so 
fixt as persons of more yeares. I therefore much 
mind not every little picket of hers.' 

Mrs. Sherard had another heiress in reserve, in 
her own county, should more genteel matches fail : 
' an ordinary man's dafter ; her father was a kind of 
a farmer but he hath given her a kind of breeding, as 
I hear he hath had her taught to sing, and to play, 
and to dance, but I beleeve it is all olde fationed. 
Her father will give her five thousand pound, and 
hath but on dafter more, and she is sickly and never 
licke to mary, and if not, shee will have more than 
enouf, for it is beleved her father is worth above 30 
thousand pounds, and dooth daily incres in welth. 


I hear shee is not but of a very good disposition.' 
Cousin Drake has another project : ' Here is a match 
for your sonn, Mr. Wilson's daughter of Surrey 
(formerly a cittizen) that I think worthy your con- 
sideration ; they offer 5,500^.' 

The autumn passed away, and the fashionable 
world was beginning to think of going up to town 
for the winter season. Mrs. Sherard allowed Peg 
and Mall to accept ' Queen Katherine's ' hospitable 
invitation to spend it with her in Covent Garden. 
The meetings with Mun were soon resumed, and Peg 
wrote to Sir Ralph that they only needed his good 
company to be quite happy. ' Dr's Nancie,' aged 17, 
was not the least merry of the party, and the signa- 
tures of the four young people occur together as 
witnesses to a bond signed at the Doctor's house. 



Nancy had attracted a suitor a year before, but 
nothing had come of it but one of the Doctor's jokes ; 
he wrote to Sir Ralph : ' We had need call a councell N v ; 20 - 

1 looo 

for marryinge and givinge in marriage, you for your 
sis, she for hers, and I for mine, who am earnestly 
sollicited for my girle by one Mr. Piggott, for his 
son who is of Graies Inne . . . his estate is within 
a mile of Newport in Shropshire.' 

Mrs. Sherard was too careful a mother to allow 
her daughters to go out in London, even with their 
Uncle and Aunt, without giving minute directions 


concerning them. For all rules of conduct she refers 
them to Sir Ralph, whose standard of taste and pro- 
priety she rightly considered a much higher one than 
Mrs. William Denton's. She has no anxieties about 
the gentle Mary, whose manner repels suitors, and 
who, with her great affection for Peg, is content to 
wait upon her sister's triumphs. But for Peg she 
NOV. 16, entreats Sir Ralph to ' order hir as you thinke fit. 
I woold not by any means parswad hir to any as 
shee licks not but pray tacke hir off of saying shee 
will and then shee will not, for soe shee did about 
Str[ickland]. I know non can manig hir lick you, and 
shee will bee free and tell you her mindo I can say 
but as I did befor, I leave her holly to your selfe and 
the D r for to treat of the conditions, and shee to pies 
hir selfe in the man. I know shee will loocke 
for a good estate, else I should not leave it soe holy 
to hir.' 

Peg Eure's l she will and she will not ' had 
already brought her family into trouble. Lord 
Strickland was ' highly dissatisfied ' with the breaking 
off of the alliance with his kinsman. Lord Eure took 
up his quarrel : and was very ' fierce ; ' ' it seems he 
fell foul of the D r in open coorte,' and they had a 
' smart bout.' But it was so difficult to quarrel with 
the Doctor that they made it up again at their next 
meeting. Mrs. Sherard still favoured the Strickland 
suit ; ; The greatest advantig of all,' she writes, ' is 
thay air extream good, which I dow more value then 
all the other convenienceys for I dessyer to mach my 


children wher they may have examples of pyatey, for 
the world is very bad, and youth is apet to goe 
astray.' She considers that Peg has treated Mr. 
Strickland badly. ' I have not disgestid the unhand- 
some breacking off of that mach, althoe my owne 
inocense was such as nothing can be more then it.' 
Sir Ralph had always favoured Robert Cotton's suit, 
and Luce, who had known his devotion to Peg at 
Blois, ' is a maine stickler ' for Cotton. The young 
man himself found Mrs. Sherard's ' admirable Daugh- 
ter soe much improved since I sawe her last in France 
as I finde that that affection which I thought to bee 
extraordinarie greate, was but the beginning of a 
much more violent one.' He had been allowed to visit 
Whitsondine in the autumn of 1655, but Mrs. Sherard 
had never fancied him. ' We aier off of Cotton,' she 
writes ; ' wee may ingage in som other plas without 
acceptiones.' Meanwhile ' Mistress Eure hath de- N _ v - 3 > 
clared, not only against M r Strickland, but against 
all other that have father or mother, or have binne con- 
trary to the side her father was of,' in the war, and 
Luce begs Sir Ralph to do his best, ' to medigate my 
lady's anger against her dau r .' ' She hath divers 
times said, ! tho not to me,' wrote Mrs. Sherard, ' that if 
I should carry her to the Church she woold tell them 
ther, that shee would not mary them if they had 
either father or mother . . . you may imagine me to 
be in some trobull, but I hope to have comfort in the 
rest of my sweet children. Godallmightey give his 
gras & that alters natenr.' ' Sir I am to lead my 1656 


life with them,' Peg writes, '& know so well my own 
temper that I feare i shall never be happy with them. 
Sir if you pies to perswaid my mother from this or 
any other that hath a father or mother you will 
oblige me ... M r Cotton hathe nether, & had som 

O * 

pretention to mee & Sir you know him to be a sivell 
person.' Mr. Cotton, having been so often extin- 
guished by Mrs. Sherard, was persuaded by an aunt 
to transfer his attentions to another heiress, daughter 
of Sir Thomas Salusbury of Llewenny, and just when 
the cruel Peg was relenting towards him, Mrs. 
Sherard hears with very unreasonable displeasure 
that ' M r Cotton is marryed. I woold faine know 
whithr it be to his 7,000 pound lady.' 

The Doctor was overwhelmed with proposals : 
NOV. 5, ' Sir Tho s Ingram treats for M r Slingsby, Sir Tho : 
Hatton for his sonne, & one Barronett Williams is 
on foot alsoe, but which hare to hunt I know not/ 
Luce Sheppard reports that : ' Sir Thomas liveth 
within 4 miles to M r Cuts, in 5 miles of Cambridg ; 
the mother yet liveing, not above 2 or 3 and forty : 
there is 6 or 7 children in all. The young gent : 
not very tall, but well shaped for his height.' 
Peg gave her mother ' 10 words for one.' nobody 
but Sir Ralph could manage her ' As I take it, its 
very convenient for the AVorshipful Dominie Poli- 
tick to be here,' writes the Doctor, ' when Peg Eure 
comes upp to be woed, therefore prepare for it.' ' She 
is an uncertaine creature to deale withall ; noe faith 
in villanons woman. She came upp with as much 


joy & resolution to have M r Strickland as could be, 
and now she flaggs wonderfully.' Lord St. John's 
son was also in question, but he was ' contracted ' 
soon after ' to one of 13 years old.' 

Mrs. Sherard wrote (about Dec. 6) thanking Sir 
Ralph for a good report of her daughters. ' I shall 
licke them the betr my selfe, for I know you aier 
betor abull to Juge of them then I am. I have 
tacked som painies with them to put as good 
prinsiobles in them as I am capabull to dow, and I 
hope God will give his blessing with it. I hir by 
the by that Moll hath a great mind to see a play ; if 
they be as they have bin this many eyers [years] 
tuged to peisuses at them, I shall not licke them, soe 
I have refred hir to you. If you think as she may 
goe with safty, I am well content, soe shee goes with 
thos persones as tis fit for hir, I believe peg had 
rather goe A visit.' Mrs. Sherard's anxiety lest her 
daughter should be tugged to pieces by the crowds 
at the theatre suggests that such amusements were 
coming into fashion again. 

In the midst of all this pleasant intercourse a 
crisis came in Mun's easy-going life probably as 
surprising to himself as to those about him ; he fell 
seriously and desperately in love. The change 
wrought in his character was immediate, it was no 
longer a question of a shadowy female figure whom 
Uncle Doctor or Sir Ralph might recommend, he 
took his life into his own hands ; there was only one 
face and one voice now in the world for him the 


face and the voice of Mary Eure. The two older 
men who were managing the ' matching ' so comfort- 
ably, with no gusts of passion to complicate the 
making of treaties, must have been startled ; but 
Sir Ralph, who had himself known what true love 
was. may not have been displeased to see his son 
shake off his apathy. At any rate they accepted the 
position ; Sir Ralph was left to make peace as best 
he could with Lady Warwick and Sir Edward 
Wortley, 1 and Dr. Denton gallantly opened the fresh 
campaign by a letter to his sister Mrs. Sherard, which 
probably crossed the one she last wrote to Sir Ralph, 
in happy unconsciousness of this fresh complication. 
1 Mim Yerney hath lately declined a very good match 
propounded for him by his father ; wheraat wee both 
wondred not a little. After much enquiry, we found 
his reason was because he had absolutely fixed and 
settled already his affection upon your Mall, which 
he thought most proper to be communicated unto 
you in the first place. Wee represented unto him 
your aversenesse of bestowing your daughter in your 
familye, he says he hath considered that, and hath 
satisfied himselfe in that point, [and] that he beleeves 
he can satisfy you. . . I offer this to your considera- 
tion and wayte your answer.' 

This opening of the negotiations was evidently 
undertaken with much deliberation. The rough copy 

1 Alianora Tryon married Sir Richard Franklyn, Bart., of Moor 
Park, Hants, and eventually became a considerable heiress, when her 
brother Sir Samuel died unmarried in 1671. 


of this letter is partly in Sir Ralph's hand, and partly 
in Dr. Denton's, and there has been a discussion 
whether the young lady should be referred to as 
' your daughter Mary,' or as she was usually called 
* Mall ' by the two elderly men who had acted so 
kind a part towards the girl since her father's death ; 
the more familiar title eventually carried the day. 
Mrs. Sherard replied in general terms that her 
daughter was averse to the married state, and implied 
that when her two little girls were under Sir 
Ralph's care at Blois, he had somewhat abused her 
confidence by planning this match. Sir Ralph replies : 
' Now in answer to yours of the 14th which con- Dec. 21, 


cerned my Sonne, and your deare daughter, I cannot 
blame you for not allowing him to make addresses 
there, for I know shee deserves the best of men and 
Fortunes. But as to my owne sonn, I seariously 
protest before Almighty God, that neither directly 
nor indirectly, by myselfe, or any other have I at 
any time perswaded her to accept of his service. Tis 
true I finde him much more taken with her, then 
ever I thought he could have been with any woeman ; 
and 1 cannot blame him, for were I of his years, I 
myselfe should bee his Rivall. But deare Aunt, 
assure yourselfe that neither my passion for her, nor 
my affection for him shall ever make me use you 
unhansomly or forfeit that confidence you have ever 
had in me.' Some coyness on the maiden's part was 
only to be expected, but when the marriage was so 
desirable on both sides in point of character, income, 



and position, Sir Ralph seems to have had no doubt 
that so ardent a suitor as his son would eventually 
win the lady. But, alas, Mary had changed as well 
as Edmund, and the cousin, who had been so welcome 
a friend and playmate, became positively repulsive to 
her as a lover a revulsion of feeling which he could 
not be expected to understand or credit. 

That Christmas Day, 1657, Edmund came of age, 
but in the unsettled state of the times, and of his own 
prospects, no family festivities seem to have marked 
his birthday. The opening of the New Year, 1658, 
which was to bring him so much suspense and sorrow, 
found him in London very ill with measles, and a 
complication of cold, cough, and ague. He writes 
anxious letters to Dr. Denton about the matter nearest 
his heart. Aunt Sherard's scruples seem to him very 
far fetched, ' she said she could not be satisfied in 
point of kindred, then the world being wyde, she 
would not venture her conscience upon a disputable 
point, besides that she had noe mind to part with her 
daughter as long as she lived.' He longs for the Doc- 
tor's help and counsel. Sir Ralph uses an argument 
which sounds strangely in our ears, the drift of his 
long letter being that if Mun would not or could not 
find a wife, he might be driven to marry again. 
Mun replies in low spirits ; Aunt Sherard has been 
in town, but is sending her girls home ; he is only 
too anxious to be married to Mary ; Eleanor 
Tryan's humours and deportment had been very dis- 
agreeable to him on a nearer acquaintance (which 


by-the-bye was entirely an afterthought) ; his father 
sees now that he is capable of a real and deep attach- 
ment, whereupon he relapses into a recital of Mary's 
charms ; Sir Ralph need never think of marriage if 
it depends upon his son's devotion ; he hints that it 
would be disastrous to Claydon to have to furnish 
fortunes for a second family, and he concludes with 
a reference at once politic and affectionate to ' ma 
chere mere defunte,' whose large fortune he is sure 
his father would not wish to leave away from her 
own children. 

The girls were now perversely determined to make 
fun of Edmund, but were quite devoted to Sir Ralph, 
and Mary Eure the night before leaving town appealed 
to him to come to their aid ; Margaret had been once 
again sought in marriage, by a ' son of Sir Thomas 
Danby, a Knight and Baronet of the North,' a match 
which her mother thought so desirable, that she was 
not inclined to tolerate in Margaret the objections she 
allowed Mary to urge against a lover equally unaccept- 
able. ' Sir,' wrote Mary to Sir Ralph, ' I must begg of 
you to be att Whitsondine as soone as possible your 
occasions will give you leave, for my Mother is much 
displeased att my sister for refusing this Mr. Danby, 
and if you doe not come to make her peace with her 
mother shee will be utterly undon. Sir, I hope you 
will pardon my strange rude letres, for my part I 
shall pray to God with all my hart that I may see 
you very sudenly at Whitsondine, for I am sure I 
shall doe noing butt crie as long as my Mother is so 


angry with my sister and I cannot hope for any 
peace till you come.' Mary no longer concludes 
with ' my sarvice to my cousan Edmund.' A few 
days later she rejoices that Sir Ralph had not under- 
taken a ' durty Journey ' at her desire, ' for God be 
blessed my sister has so well considered with her 
self, that shee has given all possible satisfaction to my 
Mother's desire who never said one word of it to her 
since shee came from London, and truly I found my 
mother's cariedge to my sister much otherwayes then 
I could have expected ... so that I could not be 
satisfied without imparting to you my extreain Joy 
who beg your silence for this and my former lettre.' 
Mrs. Sherard believes that Peg ' sores highe ; ' she 
objects not to the ' feutir fortune,' but to the present 
maintenance that Mr. Danby can settle upon her : 
' shee hath now bin 12 wickes in towne and hath 
good acquaintance and bin in much company, and I 
have not hurd of any mach that hath bin ofered that 
is soe good as this is ... and in all this four yeares 
and a halfe that shee hath bin in ingland excepting 
that of Sir Harry Le, I know of no ofers as hath bin 
worth the accepting.' Mrs. Sherard might have been 
letting a furnished house, and Mun may be forgiven 
for doubting whether her objections to parting with 
a daughter were insuperable. 

Mrs. Sherard writes again from Whitsondine in 
high good humour when Peg has given ' her free con- 
sent for me to treat,' and to do her justice she believes 
that Mr. Danby has much to recommend him besides- 


his estate, which is ' very considerable.' ' Such a man 
as he is, is not esily to be found, for he hath a "good 
deale of wit, and of a good understanding and a dis- 
creet person. . . . Had I sought all ingland I thinke 
I could not have found one as woold have shewted 
with my Dafteres Disposition soe well as this will 
dow, for he is free from all vice as far as I can lerne ; 
his governor in his family was one D r Binacombe, he 
had bin one of the Kinges Chaplines. ... I have bin 
told by thos as had it out of his owne mouth, that he 
is a great admirer of him,' &c. &c. Sir Ralph is glad 
to hear that ' Peg has returned to her obedience,' and 
hopes she will entrust to her mother all the pecuniary 
part of the business. Mrs. Sherard retorts sharply 
that there is no reason to praise Peg's obedience, for 
her mother has had none of it in this affair, ' and 
as for her trusting of me to loocke into her estat, I 
doe not take myselfe to be obliged to her at all, for 
shewer non can thinke me soe childish as to leave any 
thing to her, more than the licking of the person, for 
all other thinges I shall dow as I see case, not 
acquainting her what I intend to dow, for it is to 
put my owne power out of my handes. ... If shee 
cannot live of 2,000 I beleeve ten thousand will not 
satisfie her ; all I find as shee desires it for, is but to 
spend it uppon her vanities, which will macke her 
account the hevier at the day of judgment. In my 
esteeme an honist ghentilman with 2,000 a yeare is 
richies enoufe ; if he hath that I shall be well satisfied, 
and soe will all resonabull peopel.' She does not 


pretend that Mr. Danby is an attractive person, she 
has seen a many man ' more modish and more taking 
than himselfe,' but she feels sure he will bear with 
Peg's humours, having ' discretion enoufe and good 

Sir Ralph treated the wayward girl with a 
courtesy which her mother never condescended to 
employ. ' Deare cozen,' he wrote when Mrs. Sherard 
and Peg had fallen out more violently than usual, 
' I confesse I can not commend your resolution. . . . 
I will not argue it with you now, when I see you 
next wee will chat about it. But what ever you 
doe in that, I know you are too discreet & too good 
to diminish any of that respect & duty thats due 
unto your Mother. Let all your words and actions 
be milde & humble & with submission unto her, 
for that's the way to regaine her favour, and therby 
your owne happiness. Beleeve me, cozen, there is 
not a better-natured Woeman liveing, nor can a 
Mother bee more tender or affectionate to a childe 
then shee hath been to you, nor more carefull of a 
Fortune then shee hath been of yours ; and though 
perhapps, shee often chides & tells you plainly of your 
little faults, & with such an eagernesse as possibly you 
may conceive too much for such small matters, yet 
your back hath been no sooner turned but I have 
observed her taking twenty occati6ns to commend 
you and thanke God for you, as one of her greatest 
blessings.' Peg Fust sided with her aunt, and 
thought Peg Eure too dainty. Mr. Danby, she 


says, ' is very free from that fashionable vise of being 
a good felow. . . . Richer are to be had, if she can 
get them, but a siveler sober man, I thinck is hardly 
to be found.' 

Nancy Denton too claimed her godfather's help 
to coax her mother, as she wanted an allowance ; her 
father was willing she should have 30/. ; ' Sir,' she 
wrote, ' I shall desiar you to speak on it by cance, & 
if my mothar shuld ask you whathar I spoke unto 
you, pray say I naver spoke unto you. ... S r I 
pray doe not speak of it befor me.' Well might 
she say in her next letter : ' I cannat cues but blus 
when I thinck of the rudnes & trubell I put upon 

Mrs. Sherard has enough on her hands ; her two 
would-be sons-in-law are constantly writing to her, 
and waiting upon her, and she has a family of little 
Sherards to attend to ; she can do nothing without 
Sir Ralph's help, so in the intervals of snubbing his 
son she consults him about her own. Edmund, who 
in height and good looks had much the advantage 
of Mr. Danby, and whose worldly positio% was quite 
as eligible, hopes that Moll, like Peg, may be brought 
round to a better mind, and his great desire is now 
to secure the same powerful and peremptory inter- 
cession on his own behalf, that had done so much for 
her sister's fortunate, excellent, and unattractive 
suitor. He thinks it well to offer Mrs. Sherard' s 
conscience the consolation of a ghostly father, in the 
person of the Rector of Claydon. Kind Mr. Butterfield 


mounted his cob, and jogged off into Rutlandshire to 
allay her scruples about the marriage of first cousins 
once removed. He carried in his pocket a love-letter 
for Mary, and a handsome offer of settlements to be 
given to Mrs. Sherard from Sir Ralph, when her 
religious doubts had been removed. 

Edmund writes to Dr. Denton from Claydon : 
' This very day our Parson Butterfield went to my 
Aunt Sherard's at Whitsondine, . . . having had 
a good interest in my Aunt formerly, he hopes to 
find the same still ; however he sayd that he would 
put her hard to it, the success you shall hear by the 
next. ... If ever I be so happy as to marry her 
daughter I dare insure all the world that neither 
she nor her daughter shall ever have just cause to re- 
pent in anything whatsoever.' Of ' success ' in this 
embassy there was nothing at all to record : ' My 
Mistris, her sister and Peg Fust,' he writes, 'make 
themselves very merry with my sending Parson 
Butterfield to Whitsondine, and they wonder that 
my father did not advise me better than to send 
such a person a wooing, they sayd that in truth 
he was improper for that purpose, neither did I 
send him for that to my Mistris, but to the mother 
only that he might satisfye her pretended scruple of 
conscience. I must confesse, though the man be 
very wise, he has an extraordinary sneaking counte- 
nance and way with him, which most of his profession 
have (me thinkes) who are of the pretended reformed 
religion.' Is Edmund contrasting the ministers of 


the Commonwealth with the courtly priests and 
Jesuits he had known abroad ? or is his sweeping 
condemnation of the English clergy amply explained 
by his being crossed in love ? In any case he is 
ungratefully angry with poor Mr. Butterfield. Mrs. 
Sherard, however, had returned a civil answer to 
the letters he brought ; she expresses the wannest 
regard for her young ' cousin Mun ; ' Mr. Butterfield 
has convinced her that the marriage is not unlawful 
and she adds affectionately to Sir Ralph : ' You 
cannot imagine the trouble I am in, that I cannot 
answer your sonne's inclinations as to Deare Mall, 
for she hath other thoughts than to marry. ... I 
doubt not but in the way of reason to satisfye your 
son that he will think of some other, for that I hope 
he will do, for she assureth me she will never 
marry, and I have ingaged myselfe to her I will 
neither force her nor persuade her. I must ever 
owne her obligations to him for his affections, and 
yours to be no lesse. . . . As for her answer to her 
cosen, I have left it to her. and what she rightes is 
her owne not naiene.' 

Edmund, ignoring all the rest, thanks Mrs. Sherard 
for her kind expressions towards himself, and Sir 
Ralph believes ' that can hardly be firmly resolved 
against, which God and Xature dictate ; truly upon 
the best considerations I have, my hope is that with 
God's blessing and with our concurrence it will prove 
an happy match on all hands, otherwise it should not 
be so solemnly promoted by me.' 


Mr. Butterfield, conscious of gifts, and entirely 
unconscious of any unfavourable impression he had 
left behind him, makes another appeal to Mrs. Sherard, 
which gives us a kindlier picture of Mun than he has 
left us of the Rector : ' Madam, I humbly thanke you 
for my courteous useage at your house : in obedience 
to your will I have cast all the colde water of your's 
and your daughter's reasons and denyals upon the 
flames of that passionate young gentleman in whose 
noble heart the fire had taken such fast hold before, 
and is growne to such a strength that it converts all 
things into fuell, and will I feare in time destroy the 
whole Fabricke, if you can do no more to quench it, 
then for ought I see others can. Tis Infinit pity 
such generous love in a person so wise, so sober, pro- 
vident and hopefull, the onely expectation of a family 
so well deserving, should be ruin'd by so sad a fate. 
. . . And truly tis unkindly done of that young 
and so virtuous Lady to be so good, so amiable, and 
to appeare so to this wretched world as a destruc- 
tive Meteor onely to the miserable beholders. If 
you will not help, yet pity him at least ; I know 
you have sometimes felt your selfe the power, the 
Tyranny of love, and let him go at least and take 
the doome of his rash and wrong affection, from 
those lips that gave his this fatall wound ; who 
can tell but that may be his cure. [We hope Mrs. 
Aris veuve was treated to some of these lovely 
phrases for home consumption.] In my conscience,' 
continues the good rector, ' he would be as good, 


as kinde, as provident, as happy a husband for 
her as the World affords. I desire not to trouble 
you with a reply to these my sawcy lines. Onely 
your pardon for my freenes ; I cannot pleade the 
cause of a friend and Lover with that coolenes and 
discretion that a many can. You will finde the story 
no Romance.' 

Her religious scruples removed, Mrs. Sherard 
starts a fresh objection : Moll has been told by a 
French physician that if she marries she will certainly 
die, and Edmund appeals to Dr. Denton to disabuse 
her of what he considers a preposterous notion ; and 
to assure her that ' matrimony is a soveraigne if not 
the only compleate medicine for all feminine in- 
firmities. . . . My mistris insisting upon a resolution 
of not marrying at all, is but what modesty prompts 
all virgins to say, and nature teaches to breake in 
my judgement . . . besides me thinkes there is a 
loopehole in her letter to me, through which I fancye 
that I see some glimmering of hope, which is this, 
she will never change that resolution unlesse her 
mother command her now Sir I do most earnestly 
begg of you to stand my good friend during this 
criticall time of suspense in this grand affaire of my 
life to persuade the mother that she instruct the 
daughter of her dutye ; ' he feels that Mary might 
safely trust herself with him, ; being that I love her 
so intirely.' 

But Edmund could not leave his interests with 
any advocate, and he writes to Mary from Claydon 


with a depth of feeling which all the affectation of 
April 12, the style cannot conceal. ' Madam, you are soe perfect 

1658 1 . . 

empresse ot my heart that in obedience to yours by 
M r Butterfield, I have used more violence uppon my 
selfe these 3 weekes then a Russe, whoe takes it for 
an honnour to destroy himselfe at his Prince's 
comand: for my affection is so pure that it carryes 
with it as absolute a resignation of my selfe to you 
though with my owne destruction, and in conformitye 
to your order, I beleived that you were then best 
enjoyed by mee when I wrought your greatest content. 
Beleive me (Madam) this zeale hath forced me out of 
my selfe, as farre as any saint ever was, in a rapture ; 
yet after all my art and diligence to put this candle 
under a bushell, it burnt the more furiouslye, because 
I tryed so much to extinguish it ; for I protest before 
the majesty of God, I find by strong experience, that 
I can noe more obteyne of my will to abate of her 
love, then I can of my memorye that there is noe 
such person as you are, or my understanding that 
you are not adorned with all 'those perfections, the 
idea whereof doth soe possesse and ravish my soul. 
I vow by your supremacye and my allegeance that I 
can ascribe the grouth of my love to this vast height 
to no other cause but your huge merit, and my greate 
care not to sin against it through unadvisednesse or 
indiscretion ; this made me study how to compose 
my father's displeasure, and answere your Lady 
mother's scruples, and your desire of single life, before 
I totally submitted to the sweete conquest your 


goodnesse hath over inee ; to which I am now so 
compleate a captive that all the neglect you can 
fasten on your slave, or the diversion friends can 
prora i me to, are able to beget noe other thought in 
me thea* of living and dying your devotee, wherefore I 
beseech you to consider how it can become your 
Nature, soe full of grace and goodnesse, to call me 
not Naomi, but Marah. for the Lord hath dealt 
bitterly with me, and the waters of Marah are bitter 
to your supplicant, by giving bitternesse of Spirit to 
that heart which begs your compassion and comfort ; 
your owne knowledge of the integritye thereof cannot 
but tell you, this deserves not the corrosive of a 
deniall, & my fayth and knowledge of your candor & 
sweetnesse assure me that no word so harsh can fall 
from your tongue or pen. I beseech you to give me 
leave to adde one graine of reason to all this weight 
of affection which is that your resolution is contrary 
to that end whereto God and nature ordeyned you : 
not regardful to your dearest relations dead and living, 
but above all injurious to your sellfe ; ... if you 
put my affection in one scale and your resolution in 
the other, & if only judgement held the ballance, 
(which I reasonably hope kindnesse may some what 
bias) I shall not bee condemned for prising this so 
greate and well grounded truth that it is impossible 
for me to live or die other then, Madam, Sweetest 
Lady, Your most passionately devoted vassal, 



A note is added to his own copy of the letter, 

' The superscription was For M rs Mary Eure and 

no more,' as if language failed to supply any adequate 

address ! Mary had refused to receive his letters, but 

April 22, ]y[ un sen t this one to Dr. Denton to forward. ' Not 


to convey it,' he. writes, ' might have argued coldness 
in me towards your concerne, & to convey is contrary 
to my sister's instructions, however its gone for this 
time, but I must begg your excuse for the like, what 
I doe I shall doe openly.' Mun had found an un- 
expected ally. ' You have a sollicitrix here that 
was yours body and bones, which I presume you 
did as little dreame of as my selfe which is my 
wife. It seemes my sister had chatted it out to her 
& shee prest it on in her way which is earnest 
enough, but for ought I could understand gave her 
small encouragement.' 

A week later Edmund hears that Mrs. Sherard 
is in town without the girls ; his interview with her 
settles nothing, and he writes to her after thinking 
it over : ' I am amazed that a lady soe vertuous & 
discreete as you are should leave a gentleman & a 
lover both unsatisfyed in reason and discontented in 
his affection.' He has hinted to her that she is treat- 
ing him very differently from Mr. Danby she will 
not say that Mary has any dislike to him, but that 
she prefers a single life, ' that,' he says pathetically, 
' is a point that none can justifye the insisting upon 
but her selfe ; and if she please to improve that 
modest resolution to a perfect vow, I know none con- 


cerned therein but God her selfe and mee ; neither 
becomes it either my judgement or affection to receave 
the finall result of that from any mouth but her owne. 
... I comfort my selfe with the conscience that I 
have omitted nothing towards your Ladiship which 
becomes a gentleman ; my father is not only satisfied 
but highly pleased with my choyce, & I know noe 
more that I have to doe but to wayte on my Mistriss 
in person, and agayne begg your leave to doe, which 
if I cannot obteyne, it will much afflict your humble 
petitioner, but that may not hinder him from doing 
like a gentile and passionate lover ; for my mistresse 
must be myne or I not myselfe. The vastnesse of 
my affection for the daughter, will doubtlesse obtaine 
pardon from the mother, for all the indiscretion or 
rudeness which in this matter may be committed by 
me, who would make it the whole studdy of my life 
to please both your selfe and your daughter, (the 
first and only love my youth ever had or shall have, ) 
if ever I bee so happy as to be honoured with the 
title of your most dutifull most obedient sonne and 
most devoted humble servant, 


He implores his father once more to help him. 
' Je vous promets sur la parole d'un gentilhomme et 
d'un soldat, que si je puis obtenir cette damoiselle pour 
ma femme toutte ma vie je neparlerois, fairois, pense- 
rois, respirerois rien sinon selon vostre plaisir.' A 
letter from Mary to her mother duly forwarded to Sir 


Ralph, copied by him and docketed, ' I showed Mun 
the originall letter,' ought to have convinced the latter 
that there was a more serious obstacle to overcome 
May 8, than Aunt Sherard's irresolution. ' Madame, I have 
received a wandering letter from my Cozen Edmond 
Verney, how it came to Melton I know not, but there 
Joseph found it ; really I was never more surprised in 
my life, for I thought my last to him might have pre- 
vented his farther troubling himselfe, for since you 
have alwaies been pleased to leave me to myselfe I 
could wish he knew that if hee write or speake a 
Thousand times it will not prevaile with me at all. I 
am sorry hee forceth mee to say, if I would marry it 
should not bee him [alas for the loophole of comfort 
Mun had found before !], not that I have any thing 
against my cozen, but esteeme him as hee is my neare 
relation, but never whilst I breathe will I bee wrought 
to have the least thought of giving him any incour- 
ragement in his pretentious, hee would much obleige 
me to leave persisting in it. Madame, I shall not 
answere his letter without your command, which I 
hope I shall not receive because I should unwillingly 
obey it. All the acknowledgment in the world I 
render you for your long past promise of never per- 
swading me to marry. Sweet Maddame, that is my 
resolution ; when I change it, your Ladyshipp shall 
know, but I beleeve I shall nevar trouble you with 
that message. Bee pleased to Pardon this long im- 
pertinency and grant me your blessing, thus I remaine, 
Deare Madame, your obedient daughter, Mary Eure.' 


This letter only gave the offender an excuse 
for writing to his mistress to implore her pardon : 
' Madam,' writes Edmund from Covent Garden, ' my May 24, 
last made you my confessor; and this humbly beggs 
leave to tell you that a Penitent cannot estime 
himselfe forgiven till he find hirnselfe restored to 
grace, therefore I beseech you to use your power, 
injoyne mee pennance ; whereby I may learne and 
expiate the depth of my guilt and your displeasure. 
I have ransackt every corner of my heart, and 
called every thought thereof concerning my mistress 
and her mother to a strict account and can find 
nothing but height of affection for the one and 
of respect and deutye for the other. Yet good na- 
tures are sollicitous when a misapprehension befalls 
them, as much as if they were really guiltye ; this 
makes Mun Verney professe that he is more angry 
with himselfe that your Ladyship should imagine, etc., 
etc., etc.' He declares it would be a ' slender bragge ' 
to say that he is incapable of displeasing her ; he again 
prays for an interview, 'for I am among those objects 
which are scene and please best at a closer view. 
Madam, a devout lover is in a sadd case, for nothing 
more then that hee cannot plead his owne cause 
without playing the foole in commending himselfe, 
& I detest the one as much as I am gone of the 
other. Therefore I beseech your Ladyship that this 
may find grace in your sight, and returne with some 
message of countenance and comfort to your most 
devoted and deutifull servant Edmond Verney.' 



Another elaborate letter followed to Mrs. Sherard ; 
indeed, if fine-drawn phrases could avail, Edmund 
does not spare them : he is in constant correspon- 
dence with his own friend, Dr. Thomas Hyde, about 
the etiquette of courtship. 

Dr. Thomas Hyde's share in Edmund's wooing is 
not the least curious part of the story. He was a first 
cousin of Sir Edmund's old friend Lord Clarendon ; 
and brother of Sir Robert Hyde, the Judge, who came 
to Aylesbury on circuit after the Restoration, and 
kept up the family friendship with the Verneys. 
He was a Fellow of New College, and Judge of 
the Admiralty Court, and lived at Gray's Inn when 
he was not at Salisbury. They wrote to each other 
in terms of the most fanciful and extravagant affec- 
tion ; Edmund had an unbounded admiration for 
his friend's acquirements and his easy flow of 
words. Edmund sends skeleton letters for Dr. 
Hyde ' to adorn ; ' to despatch one of his own 
beside one of the Doctor's would be, he says, ' like 
ploughing with an ox and an ass ! ' Hyde seems to 
have been a selfish, worldly man ; he encouraged 
Edmund in hard thoughts of his father, and sent 
him letters in an underhand way, under cover, 
to Parson Aris and others. Here is a note from 
the Doctor enclosing copies of letters for Mun to 
write to Peg Eure, Peg Fust, and Luce Sheppard : 
' Good Sir, your last came this morning to my hands, 
& in complyance therewith I have made the enclosed. 
It is an hard task to make bricks without straw, but 


I have raked together some rubbish. The directions 
are followed as neare as I might, & I was bound to 
venter at some proportionation of expressions by con- 
jecture. For instructions of this nature can hardly 
be delivered but by word of Mouth. Not but what 
I rejoyce to find your Pen soe Terse, that I thinke it 
exceedes myne, but the Nature & Variety of the 
subject beares it not. All is submitted to your dis- 
cretion for alteration, addition, or totall rejection ! 
only that you use, write and poynt as you sawe it 
under my hand.' 

Captain and Mrs. Sherard paid a visit to Clay- 
don, but they only brought Peg Fust with them, the 
two Eure girls were prudently left behind at Whit- 
sondine, to Mun's great disappointment. The letters 
so carefully prepared were to congratulate Peg Eure 
on her engagement. ' Mr. Danby hath demonstrated 
his discretion in placing his affection on soe worthy a 
Lady, & tis not flattery to say, my Cosen Peg's mouth 
was not out of taste when she admitted him for her 
servant.' He does not fail to insinuate a hope that her 
good example may influence her sister. Luce Shep- 
pard, because of her intimacy with the girls, has 
suddenly become a most interesting person in his 
eyes, and the following note, written by Dr. Hyde 
and revised by Mun, was evidently felt to be a 
triumph of antithesis in epistolary art. ' M rs Shep- June 7, 
heard, my disposition commands me to pay thanks 
at home for civilities receaved Abroade. These you 
afforded mee in France, in soe high measure, that 

z 2 


tract of time cannot extinguish the obligations 
thereof, but encreases it, and creates in me a long- 
ing desire of requitall. I hope this acknowledge- 
ment will not seeme to come late, for it ownes the 
courtesies done to Mun Verney, Boy, so soone as 
he could write, Man. My arrivall to this state hath 
put in my head many considerations, more than ever 
you knew in it ; but in time you shall know more, not 
doubting but you will promote them to the utmost 
of your industrye and power, and in this confidence 
rests your faythfull friend and servant Ed : Verney.' 
' My dearest Mistresse,' Edmund wrote to Mary, 
' Startle not I beseech you at the title, for it is 
yours and none but yours, & my pen may be par- 
doned for writing what is so deeply engraven in 
my heart ; cast I beseech you an eye of pittye upon 
your slave, whom your perfections have made the 
most miserable creature in the world, your vertues 
have such absolute dominion over my soule that it 
can think of nothing but M rs Mary Eure. I think 
that I am writing this at Clay don, but I can scearse 
beleeve it, for there is more of me at Whitsondine 
then in Buckinghamshire : & you will be per- 
suaded it is so, when I assure you that as often as I 
make any addresses to my God, my saint, even your 
sweete selfe interposes betweene my maker and mee. 
Madam bestow no answere at all on me, but of accep- 
tance & kindnesse ; indeed I am capable of noe other, 
for a deniall from you, & a dagger at my heart are the 
same thing.' 


Mrs. Sherard writes to Sir Ralph: ' Sweet nephew, June 17, 
my Mall hath bin with me with a letor as came from 
your Son, and shee hath desired me to right to you y* 
you will tacke off your son from givinge himselfe or 
her any ferther trobul in his pretension to her, for it is 
her full resolution never to alter her conditions. I will 
right what I dow really thinke. I beleeve her, and 
shee takes it very ill of thos as doeth not. Your Son 
may fansy to him selfe great maters y fc he should gain 
her if he had but an oppertunity but I beleeve he 
woold find him selfe deseived . . . shee knows not whie 
shee should admit of any firther addressis by reson 
shee hath given him soe full an answer alredy : but if 
it bee his desier to macke it a publicke bisinis shee 
saith shee will declare to all y e world as shee never 
will have him. ... I must confes I have often 
woondered at his pations for Mall, for I have divers 
times heard him say (since he saw my Dafter) as all 
woomen waier alicke to him. ... I beleeve very 
well of my dafter, But there is many vertewous 
woomen in y e world besides her, . . . soe with my 
well wishies to you both I rest, but never from being 
your most affectionat Ante Marg : Sherard. I have 
bid Mall right to you herselfe if shee woold, for 
shee can right her minde betir to you herselfe then 
I can.' 

Mary herself has not the smallest taste for flirta- 
tion, and she writes back, not to Edmund, but to his 
father. ' Sir, . . . tis my petition you will pleas to 
use your endeavor to devert my cosen your son icss 


from persisting farther. . . . Pray tell him itt is hard 
to force an afection ; he will not find mee so pliable as 
I beleive he expects and I would unwillingly have him 
venture upon so fruittles a trouble, for I take noe 
pleasure in severyty, neither am I so tame as to 
be compelled from my resolution; this is truth, and 
I am the more induced you will believe itt because 
your self dealles so truly witth all the world.' 
Sir Ralph replies : ' Deare Cozen, I will not say you 
are a hard Mistris, well knowing your owne Hart 
must needes prevent mee, nor shall I presse you 
to make my sonne happy, since you soe positively 
declare against it ; for tis impossible to force affec- 
tion, and where that's wanting there can never be a 
true contentment. What I have sayd, & what I 
have doun (since the receipt of your letter) in order 
to your commands, tis needless to expresse, but what 
successe I have had, this inclosed (if you please to 
read it) will soone informe you. And I confesse I doe 
not much woonder at it, for who ever considders 
your vertues can doe no lesse then love and honour 
you ; and can you thinke that an affection built and 
settled uppon such a basis is either easily or suddenly 
destroyed ? Noe, noe, sweet cozen, few or none have 
that absolute mastery over theire owne passions as to 
love or unlove, either whome, or when they list ; nor 
can that love be real that is at such command. 
Therefore I presume you will not exact a greater 
obedience then he, or any man living (that loves you 
truly) can performe, but rather (since you doe not 


listen to him) leave it to time, and his owne sad 
thoughts, to loosen that which your owne merrits 
have rivetted soe fast within him.' 

Well might Mun say that his father had ' writ 
a very handsome letter ' for him, and Mary must have 
felt her kind old friend to be quite a broken reed, 
when she found the enclosure he sent her was another 
passionate appeal from her irrepressible admirer. 
* Madam, I must begg leave to bemoane the pro- 
digious method of my fate, that my mistrisse doome 
should be conveyed to her servant by the hands of 
his owne father, since the greatest malefactor in the 
world receaves his sentence in person, but the causes 
thereof assigned have put even my soule upon the 
racke ; your resolution not to marry was fatall 
enoughe, but the addition (of never him), and the 
causes why, have commanded mee to recollect all 
my thoughts and words, to survey all my letters and 
actions in relation to your deare selfe with a most 
rigid and censorious eye ; and let me never see the face 
of God or yours, if I can deserve the least atome that 
lookes towards importunitye or much less force. . . . 
Dearest Mistriss give mee leave to wish from the 
botom of my heart, that there never be other force 
offerd to you then what may proceed from mee : 
for the full enjoyment of your content is the great- 
est happiness and dayly prayer of, Madam, your 
most passionate vassall and devoted slave Edmond 

Watchful of every chance of communicating with 


Mary, Edmund (who has heroically refrained from 
writing to her for full three months,) appeals to 
Colonel Henry Verney, who is staying at Whitson- 
Sept. 1658 dine, to help him, but Henry replies that he has 
tried ' all his little witts,' but that he would under- 
take as soone to empty the sea, as to persuade Mary 
to marriage. He offers this miserable consolation : 
' I shall make it my studdy night and day in my 
little Progresse to finde out a lady suiteable to thy 
likeing and merrit ; much more I had to tell you of 
little stories, but my pen is so bad and noe better to 
bee got, etc., etc.,' and that is all the comfort Mun 
gets from his bachelor uncle. 

Sir Ralph cannot give up hope ; he writes of 
Mary as a jewel, there is no girl in England from 
whom he should expect so much happiness for his 
son, himself, and his family. In December Mun is 
again tormented by a ray of hope ; he and his father 
are going to London, and Aunt Sherard ' has writt 
him word lately that she intended to be there about 
the same time with him, and that she would only 
bring my mistriss along with her and leave the 
residue of her family behind ; methinks I see some- 
what auspicious comming upon me,' writes the poor 
fellow ; ' my father lookes upon me also with a 
gratious eye,' and he resolves that Mary shall not 
leave town without seeing him. 

By this time Sir Nathaniel and Lady Hobart and 
many other relations have been drawn into this tragi- 
comedy of ' Love's Labour Lost.' ' For your reso- 


lution,' Sir Nathaniel writes, ' to goe in person to re- 
ceive your sentence, pardon me, I can by noe meanes 
approve of it. Except it bee to make the Captaine 
drunk and then perhaps he will beate your Aunt, 
which will bee some satisfaction ; but to be serious. 
When I consider how the sweet innocent Virgin will 
be exposed, you cannot imagine how it afflicts mee, 
if you forgive her obedience (as you say you doo) 
why will you trouble it ; can you find in your heart 
to be a witness of the confusion and disorder which 
your presence will occasion ? . . . Noe, deare cosin, 
as you love honor, let mee conjure you not to doe a 
thing soe unhandsom, soe unmanly.' So that scheme 
fell to the ground, and Mary returned unmolested to 

In January 1659 Sir Ralph and Edmund are 
together in town ; the latter, sick with hope deferred, 
still insists that Mary ought to grant him a personal 
interview before giving him his final answer. Sir 
Ralph writes to Mrs. Sherard that, on ' Wednesday Jan. 17, 

r J 1659 

last ' Mun came to consult him about sending his man 
to Whitsondine with a letter. Sir Ralph thought 
that ' hee was sufficiently diswaded from it, but on 
Friday night when I was going to Bed, hee came to 
me againe & told me his intention was to send away 
hie Man the very next Morning, uppon which (when 
I saw him soe resolved) though I cast some new 
Rubbs in his Way, I did noe more oppose it.' The 
messenger went, but this time he took 'neither 
Scripp nor Scrole nor Message ' from Sir Ralph. 


Nothing could be colder than Mary's reply to Ed- 
mund. ' Sir, I much wondre my wrighting should 
not as well satisfie you as my speaking (unless you 
thinke me so foolish that I cannot sett downe my 
owne sence). My admitting you to Whitsondine 
would perhaps be taken for some smale incourigment 
which I am resolved shall never be given you by 
your servant, Mary Eure.' Mrs. Sherard is ' shewer ' 
that Mall will not change her mind, and hopes that 
Mun will no longer ' prosicewt ' his suit. 

This might be taken as conclusive. In February 
another match is proposed to him with a daughter of 
Lady Springet, who lives ' within 5 miles of Chaford 
in the Chilton of Buckinghamshire.' Edmund, weary 
of suspense, and held, as he says, in the ' Padlock 
of Necessity,' makes some languid inquiries about 
the young lady, whether she be ' of a gentle and 
grave behaviour ; ' but he still thinks that he ought 
not to take any final step without having seen Mary 
February, face to face. He tries to persuade his father to lend 
him horses to go into Rutlandshire ; this he utterly 
refuses, though Mr. Butterfield is won over by Mun's 
arguments, and they both give Sir Ralph ' reason 
enough whereby I was bound to go, but that never 
mooves him when he has no mind to it.' Mun finds 
that if he goes at all, ' it must be as a rebellious sonne 
& a runaway,' which would not recommend him at 
the journey's end, and besides ' horses good & able 
enough to carry him with credit are hard to bee found 
among hackenees/ In March, strange to say, the 


mother does not wish the matter to be considered as 
at an end : ' I shall contrive some waie this somer 
for your son to see my M. E.' 

Henry recommends Lady Longueville's daughter, 
and Sir Ralph is inquiring in July about a rich Mrs. 
Utbut in the City ; but Mrs. Utbut's demands are too 
big, and she does not wish her daughter of fourteen 
to marry for three years. Mun feels no regret that it 
comes to nothing ; ' a vertuous gentlewoman is by 
farre to bee esteemed and preferred than the richest 
cittizen in England.' 

Mrs. Sherard and Danby pere have quarrelled 
over settlements, even the young man's ' carrig ' has 
not been all she could desire, and Edmund reports 
that she has been to London ' to put a period to Mr. July 2',), 


Danby 's businesse,' but the perverse Peg feels more 
warmly towards him as her mother cools. Mrs. 
Sherard then asks Sir Ralph and Edmund to go 
with her into Yorkshire, and when they decline, as 
they have guests at Claydon, she proposes to send 
her daughters there, to give Edmund full opportunity 
' to try what he can work upon Mall's spirit,' though, 
her mother adds, she still thinks she would not 
change her condition to be a ' Queene ' ! Sir Ralph 
is full of hospitable plans ; he trusts that Peg Fust Aug. 9, 
will come too, and he will send his coach to meet 
' the three virgins ' at any place appointed : ' my 
Sister Gardner brings Preshaw heather, and Sister 
Elmes, Sister Pen Denton, and Brother Harry meet 
her here doubt not want of lodging, for the virgins 


are resolved to ligge altogeather.' Edmund is 
amazed that Mrs. Sherard ' having long since ex- 
tinguished and buried the least sparke of desire 
that way, should of herselfe in a manner rekindle and 
rake it up againe.' ' I am sory that my first meeting 
with my mistrisse must be at my owne house where 
I cannot without breaking the rules of good manners 
give her back her rude letter with reproache.' He is 
embittered, but only for a moment, for his heart is 
full of joy when he thinks she is really coming, ' and 
I heare a bird sing I shall have her at length.' 

But the visit is never paid ; Mall manages to fall 
sick, and is frequently blooded. Mrs. Sherard writes 
in October that ' the seson of the year is past for 
jurneys of plesheur,' though she had three times 
prepared her daughters for a start, and in November 
she announces Peg's marriage to Sir Ralph in these 
terms : ' One of them is disposed of now, I bles God 
for it as you have ever bin hur very great frind soe 
pray will you continew it and advis her to complye 
with her husband and not to shufill him off, after 
shee hath had him a time, as she hath don some 
others besides my selfe.' In December she is a little 
pacified, she thinks that Peg is doing very well with 
Mr. Danby, and that he is ' a juditious & a discreet 
man, and but that he hath a tircke [Turk] to his 
father,' he might have a large income now ; her news 
is a little mixed, for ' the anibaptis are flocking 
northwards,' and the hard frost prevents her sending 
him ' som goosebirye trees.' 


Mun writes to Mrs. Sherard once more to ask her 
intentions : ' without ostentation be it spoken, Thorn : 
Danby will not thinke himself disparaged if Mun 
Yerney professe himselfe as capable of the yonger 
sister as he is of the elder.' Her reply is to invite 
Edmund and his father to keep Christmas with them 
at Whitsondine, ' tho' I do not interpret this invita- 
tion as any good omen,' writes poor Mun. 

In February 1660 he tells his father 'that -there 
remaines in me a hankering after my old Mistriss, 
but truly I perceive not the least simptome whereby 
reason dares without vaiiie & foolish presumption 
elevate my hopes. I assure myselfe that there is noe 
other proposall enterteyned, but if there bee I must 
beare it patiently considering that I can in no way 
hinder it.' In April 1660 Captain Sherard has been 
chosen Knight of the Shire for Rutland, and his wife 
and Mary are going to town, where Edmund expects 
to meet them. In August he asks Dr. Hyde to 
pen another letter for him, for ' tis not possible for 
any one to be more acute & sublime/ making one 
more passionate and persuasive appeal to his mis- 
tress, pointing out his long and faithful courtship, his 
humble behaviour, and absolute submission to her will 
in not importuning her, though his eternal happiness 
depends on her answer, ' all this set forth in your noble 
strayne may perhaps work some effect if anything 
cann.' But another year goes by and at the end of 
1660 Dr. Hyde can only condole with his friend 
that Mrs. Sherard is still making ' such varietyes of 


exceptions and scruples when this Resolution owned 
would have been taken for a peremptory answer/ and 
that after ' 3 yeares tricks & attendance ' the Lady 
has not been ' with soe much adoe obteyned.' 

In an old family pocket book, recently found 
amongst some lumber in the smoking room at Clay don, 
the first entry is as follows, in John Yerney's hand : 
' Marriage 1663, July 15. Mary Eure and William 
Palmes in St. Martin's by Dr. Robert Townsend.' 
Some fifty years later there is a begging letter from 
Mr. Palmes, Mary's son ; and a copy across the back 
of it, of a prompt and curt refusal from the l Cousin 
Verney,' at that time owner of Claydon : his senti- 
mental references to his mother and the affection of 
old times awake no response in the home of which 
Mary had so persistently refused to become the 

Jrnn a Jiuin fi/uj /v/ Qjfut a/ (^ 



1653 to 1662. 

Go, silly worm, drudge, trudge, and travel, 

Despising pain, so thou may'st gain 
Some honour, or some golden gravel. 


THE career of Sir Ralph's second son, John Verney, 
as portrayed in the old letters, gives us as complete 
a picture of the progress of the industrious appren- 
tice of the seventeenth century as Hogarth's famous 
series does of the eighteenth century, and with 
results even more splendid than the wedding with 
the merchant's daughter, and the Lord Mayor's 
coach, of Hogarth's highly moral climax. Our 
apprentice becomes a baronet, a landed proprietor, 
and a member of Parliament ; and at last in the final 
scene his linen cap has been transformed into a 
viscount's coronet (with an earldom in prospect for 
his heirs), and we leave him with all that ' should 
accompany old age as honour, love, obedience, 
troops of friends.' 

Virtue herself stands aghast at the material 
rewards she has heaped up, and we feel more affection 


for the elder brother, with his blighted hopes and 
wasted opportunities, than the younger inspires, with 
all his success and prosperity. But the boy must 
have had no common strength of purpose who, in 
the evil days of the Stuart Restoration, could set 
his face so resolutely to a life of humdrum in- 
dustry. Other youths of good family, his cousins 
and contemporaries, were idling away their lives, 
pretending to work at the Bar or struggling 
for a place at Court, while some, like ' Cousin 
Hals ' and ' Cousin Turville,' even ' took to the 
road' and ended with the gallows. Nat Hobart, 
John Stewkley, and many of Sir Ralph's best friends 
had sons, who, not attaining to such a melodramatic 
end, yet brought nothing but debt and disappoint- 
ment to their fathers' doors. If there was an 
absence of romance in the life of a man whose best 
years were devoted to the making of money, other 
fathers may well have envied Sir Ralph a son who 
at fifteen chose his own profession ; who enjoyed his 
work as other men did not enjoy their pleasures ; 
and whose aspirations were so reasonable, and plans 
so well-laid, that Fortune could not feel herself justi- 
fied in frustrating them. 

A pleasant, happy child, little Jack was welcome 
everywhere. In his baby days he had trotted after 
his mother, singing and chattering, and cheering her 
progress through the empty rooms at Claydon, when 
her husband was in exile. At ten years old Aunt 
Sherard writes of him : ' I have chosen Jack to be 


my galant, and I thinke I have as fine A one, as any 
in the towne.' Their precise and methodical father 
always leant upon John while he was inclined to 
depreciate Edmund. But his partiality bred no 
ill-will between the brothers, who were throughout 
life the best of friends. 

At an age when little boys are apt to be equally 
trying to their garments and guardians female 
Luce Sheppard wrote, ' Mr. John hath keept his Mar. so, 
clothes in so good order, I have not had to buy 
anything for him : next weecke I will send him 
againe to scholle, allthough wee are great gainers by 
his sober company ; yet wee must consider him that 
hee losse not by ours.' 

Before his return from Blois, Sir Ralph had been 
pondering over this question of Jack's schooling. 
He was not in love with the new doctrines, and 
what we should now call a Church School was 
liable at any moment to have its light extinguished. 
By a stringent ordinance passed in 1654, ministers 
and schoolmasters ' who are or shall be Ignorant, 
Scandalous, Insufficient, or Negligent,' were to be 
ejected or restrained from teaching. It was hard 
indeed to find a schoolmaster with Royalist and 
Episcopal leanings, who could not be included in one 
or other of these categories ; when not merely the 
preaching of disaffection against the government, 
but the profanation of the Sabbath, the use of the 
Book of Common Prayer, the encouragement of 
gambling, of May-poles, and of stage-plays, were all 

VOL. in. A A 


classed together as forbidden things. Under con- 
ditions so precarious, the Rev. Dr. James Fleetwood 
kept a school at Barn Elms in Surrey. His cousin, 
Charles Fleetwood, and his brother George were 
amongst Cromwell's strongest supporters, but he held 
firmly to the old opinions. It does not appear why 
Sir Ralph preferred a private to a public school, his 
own brothers had been at Winchester, the Stewkleys 
had a boy there, and the Doctor thought it ' a very 
fitt place for Jack ; ' perhaps he was afraid of the 
well-known Puritan principles of Warden Harris. 1 
Sept. 1653 Aunt Sherard writes from Whitsondine that if 
Sir Ralph does not mind ' a scoole soe far off of 
London, here is a very good one within 7 miles of 
me, at A plas called Uppingham ; 2 the master hath 
the report of A very gentille man, and if you send 
him this waies, I will have a care of him, for I can 
nevr dow enoufe for you, for the care you have had 
of mine :'...' the scoolm aster,' she writes again, 
1 is comended for a sivill and A well bred man, which I 
know will be very yousful to your young mounseer.' 

1 There was an old connection with the school in both families ; 
an Edmund Verney was a Winton scholar in 1508, and a Richard 
Stewkeley, of Hawkley, Hants, in 1505. John Potenger was head- 
master in 1653, and was succeeded by William Burt from 1654 to 
1657 ; but the headmasters were little more than ushers during the 
Commonwealth, the wardens were the great men. I am indebted to 
G. M. A. Hewett, Esq., of Winchester College, for this information. 

2 E. C. Selwyn, Esq., headmaster of Uppingham, kindly informs 
me that he can discover no old record of the school, or even of the 
headmasters before this century. He also says that Whissendine is 
quite ten miles off, another instance of the ' computed distances ' 
in the old letters being shorter than the measured miles. 


But Sir Ralph did object to the distance from town, 
and Jack was sent to Barn Elms. 

The first leaving home is a sad ordeal, even with 
the luxuries and refinements of the modern pre- 
paratory school ; and it must have been hard 
indeed to Jack. His ignorance of the traditions of 
English schoolboys, his little ' french aire ' and 
foreign accent, so much admired by Luce Sheppard 
and his cousins, and the very cut of his clothes, no 
doubt exposed him to unsparing ridicule in the 
rough young world of those days ; the lively child 
became for a time a grave and silent boy. The 
doctor writes, ' our schools doe Cow and over awe 
him ; ' and six months later Mrs. Isham says, ' All 
y e falte I could find in him, he was y e sobrist youth 
that ever I did see, but my hope is that he had more 
metill in my absence than I could parswad him to in 
my presence.' ' Dr. Fleetwood, his wife, and Queen 
Kate scold grievously, that Monsr. Jehan is kept noe 
better in cloaths.' To be correct in all matters of 
school etiquette was doubtless as important in the 
seventeenth century as it is hi the nineteenth, and a 
special sort of taper was just then in fashion at Dr. 
Fleetwood's. ' Je vous prie,' Jack writes, ' de 
manvoier de la chandelle de cirre entortille, car tous 
les garqons en ont pour brullay et moy ie n'en ay 
point pour moy.' In school Jack's diligence is 
commended by his master ; he is ' very ingenious l March 

1 Ingenuous and ingenious are used interchangeably in the seven- 
teenth century. ' Since Heaven is so glorious a state let us spend . . . 

A A 2 


and quick in understanding Arithmetick, wherein he 
hath made a very good progressed But Dr. Fleet- 
wood's authority was tottering, and before Jack had 
completed a second year, his master was prohibited 
as a delinquent from keeping his school. 
May 21, ' It is a generall consern,' wrote Doll Leake, ' the 

1656 ' ' 

puting to silenc thos good men ; I pray God rase 
them frinds, and give us memory and constancy to 
live as we have binn taught.' In this case her 
wishes were fulfilled. Driven from his desk, the 
doctor was forthwith engaged by a Duchess, and his 
heretical opinions, religious and political, were kept 
for the home-consumption of her family, till the 
Restoration made them orthodox once more and 
advanced him to the Bishopric of Worcester. 

This Duchess was an old acquaintance of the 
Verneys ; Lady Mary Villiers, daughter of the great 
Duke of Buckingham, and widow of James Stuart, 
first Duke of Richmond, a devoted Royalist. 1 She 
was left with a boy and girl to educate, and 
her husband's orphan nephew, Charles Stuart, 
Lord Aubigny, whose father had fallen with Sir 
Edmund Verney at Edgehill. Lord Aubigny was 
the same age as Jack Verney ; Esme Stuart, the 
Duke, was younger ; after his premature death in 
1660, his cousin succeeded him as third Duke of 
Richmond. Dr. Fleetwood was well provided for as 

all our study and industry, all our desires and stratagems, all our 
witty and ingenuous faculties towards the arriving thither ' (Taylor, 
Holy Dying, ii. 4). 
1 Vol. ii. p. 401. 


tutor to these two boys, and Jack met his old master 
and ' my lord Abigny in a coach agoing together,' 
but Jack was still at large. 

Anne Hobart, always prompt to befriend Ralph's 
belongings, writes: 'I hear " swet Jack" must be Dec. less 
sent far away by the Dockter ; if you send him 
to me ... he shall be carfully locked to as if he 
war my dearest child ... If you will, he shall 
goo every day an hour to Mr. Castilon at my 
nes H calls and he shall hear him red laten for 
french my hus will prat with him .... and he 
may larn to danc, so he will not quit los his tim.' 
Dr. Denton is full of schemes for ' placing Jack,' and 
his other nephew, Jack Fust. ' I have spoken with Dec. is, 

Ld. Mulgrave's chaplain (who teaches his son) to 
take the care of one or two, who saies for my (but 
sure he meanes his owne) sake, if it may be soe 
contrived to all contents, he will. The man I 
beleeve is very sufficient in parts, and for ought I 
know reasonable moderate in his opinions. The 
most difficult will be to place one or other neare to 
him ; the best place is Kersey's, but whether neare 
enough I doubt.' ' There is an inconveniency called 
play if togeather,' the doctor adds, but he is sanguine 
enough ' to hope that happily that may be pre- 
vented by Kersey and others .... This is but last 
night's embryon, and you have time enough to 
ruminate uppon it. One other considerable incon- 
venience there is, which is that I doubt he will not 
be able to attend them, nor they him, above two 


or three houres a day, espetially this winter time. 
There is yet another which is that happily the 
chaplain may return (which depends on my Lord's 
augmentation of his salary) to Cambridge in the 

Jan. 7, springe.' . . . ' Triplett who is to reside and teach at 
the Dutch embassador's, has also offered to take Jack ; 
he will not care for above 8 or 10 at most.' 

Sir Ralph already knew Mr. Kersey, with whom 

September ft was proposed the boys should live. Thomas 
Stafford had begged him ' to invite Mr. Kersey the 
Mathematition, and enquire of him upon what rates 
he useth to teach, lodg, and sojorn young men 
that desire to learn areathmatique and to write 
well ; and whether hee hath roome for a scholler.' 
Mr. Kersey, in reply, wished it to be understood 
that he did not profess to give a commercial educa- 
tion, and that if the boy were ' to be fitted for a 
merchant or other trade, the best and readiest way 
(in my judgement) is to place him at Board with 
such as make that businesse only their profession, 
which in regard my imployment is for the most part 
abroad, I doe not undertake. But if his designe is 
only to learne some thing in the Mathematiques, I 
shall doe him what service I am able, if he can be 
conveniently lodged and dyeted neere my house ; for 
I doe not board any neither have I at present any 
lodging to spare.' As Sir Edward Fust decided to 
send his Jack to Mr. Kersey's, Sir Ralph was willing 
to do the same : they were to pay twelve shillings a 
week each. Dr. Denton describes how ' Mons.' Jehan's 


hart is here, and his body at this time : the 2 Johns 
doe not love to be asunder.' ' Jack hath noe rnind to 
be at Lady Hobart's ; Fust and he have not parted 
all this Christmas, sometimes here night and day, 
and sometimes there.' At Mr. Kersey's it appears 
that the boys must ' ly in a garrett, he havinge 
noe other lodging but the dininge roome and the 
chamber against it w ch he cannot sever, and they'l 
be about 8s. a weeke more.' Sir Ralph l had rather 
pay more then let Jack be in a cold garrett, 
considering the extremity of the season .... 
Uncle ffust will be of the same minde for his son 
too.' The father and uncle do their best in ex- 
horting the pair to content themselves with a 
moderate amount of mischief, but Sir Ralph doubts 
' the 2 young ones will bee to crafty for us old ones, Jan. 1656 
and doe little there but play togeather, therfore I 
shall desire to send Jack to schole againe, with all 
y e speed that may bee .... I pray read Jack's 
letter and charme him to obey it.' 

Two schools are now recommended, at Hammer- 
smith, and at Kensington ; * either of those places 
are very convenient, if the Masters are good and 
carefull.' The master at Hammersmith has 'leave 
to teach,' but Mr. Turberville of Kensington is 
finally chosen. Sir Robert Fenn, who lives next 
door, says he ' is Master of French, Italian, G-reeke, 
and Latine, and of Musicke, and he thinks him a 
very good schoolmaster.' Dr. Denton adds, ' You 
will easily ghesse how fitt Kensington is for Jack ; if 


all will be taught as is pretended unto.' Dr. Denton 
is ' not very fond of his master's phitiognomy, yet I 
find Dr. Hodges the vicar of Kensington hath 2 sons 
there, and Baron Steele one son there. The Dr. 
lives in the towne, and the Baron hath a brother 
livinge in the towne, wch makes me hope he is 
better then he lookes for. Aunt Abercromby's boy 
was also at this school.' Aunt Doctor replenished 
Jack's wardrobe, and ' made choise of a very good 
chamber and .... tooke order to have it and his 
beddinge aired.' ' He hath yett noe chamber fellow, 
but there is expectacion of one of his old comrades 
and he makes choyse of him if he come.' Jack 
Dec. so, remained there three years. ' I am very sorry,' Mr. 
Turberville writes, ' it was not my happiness to have 
knowne him sooner. I would be loth by extenuating 
of others abilities to magnifie mine owne. But cer- 
tainly much more might in the tyme he spent at Barne 
Elmes and Fulham have bin infused into his 
capacity, yet I doubt not but to give you a very 
sufficient assurance of his proficiency in a small 
tyme, both of his amendement in his writing, y e 
mastery of his grammar and an indiferent Latine 
Author, his preservation of the ffrench and y e 
command of his Yioll, which I had rather you 
should imbibe with your owne eares then depend 
uppon my naked assurance. I hope your eldest 
sonne, with whome he now keepes his Christmas, can 
and will by his observacion afford you a large 
testimony. To atteine to all this, and to crowne his 


actions, one thing more I must insert that (in reality 
I speake it) he is very laborious and industrious to 
redeeme y e tyme that is past and irrecoverable, and 
very observant of my advice, which are all as I 
conceive great symptomes of answering your ex- 
pectacons. . . . Sr, I begin to be tedious ; Tie 
knock off, and not interrupt your more important 
affayres with any impertinencies, only give me leave 
to subscribe, Sr, your most humble devoted serv- 
ant at all commands, Samuell Turbervile.' Jack's 
mastery of an ' indifferent ' Latin Author could not 
have been great. He writes some six months after- 
wards, ' Honoratissime Pater Quaeso condona me, 
quia non antea ad te scripsi, sed confiteor, fuit 
inea negligentia et non mia oblivio, iterum vero 
nusquam te fallam, si valeam scribere, terq^ quaterq^ 
te igitur oro ne irascaris mihi, scio te esse hominem 
nobiliorem, quam talibus Irasci, cognosce te adeo 
hominem esse, quod pudeat me relinquere stultitiam 
meam assumi in manus tuas, cognosce istas lineas 
non sensus esse, sed mea tamen est stoliditas eas legi 
a te pati, qui habes tot virtutes et noscis tarn bene 
quomode uti iis, sic maneo et semper manebo. Ibe- 
dientiosimus tui fillius et servus servorum, Jo. Ver- 

It would be hard to say which is the more 
halting and painful (in both senses), Mun's French 
or Jack's Latin ! Jack's diligence in his studies, 
though satisfactory to his master, did not always 
come up to Sir Ralph's strict standard. ' Truly Sr,' 


Jack writes, 1 1 doe mitily wonder how you should 
find me soe negligent towards my learning. I verily 
beleeve it was last Saturday when I came to 
London ; but if you can afford a little time to riede 
on further you shall see .... For that day I was 
at Winser and bake againe, a horse Backe with my 
Master's consent, and not onely me, but also 4 other 
young Gentlemen and our Usher, for my Master 
would not trust us alone, and I had done some of 
my Busenesse on friday night, Because I would not 
goe and lose all Saturday morning ; now Saturday 
in the after noone wee doe alwaise playe, and- 
therefore I doe straingely wonder how that 
negligence should bee soe found for to lye in my 
Bosome. Indeed I should bee very glad for to see 
you heere and also my most Dear Brother for to 
accompaine you along This pleasant Roade.' 

Music was a part of every gentleman's education, 
the Elizabethan opinion still happily prevailing, that 
it is the ' natural sweeter of our sour life, in any 
man's judgement that is not too sour,' and for music 
Jack had a real love and aptitude. Her sweet 
singing and guitar-playing must have been associated 
with all his childish recollections of his mother, and 
he wrote to his father from school : 'Heere folloeth 
a petition which I doe desire att your hands ; that 
is that you would be pleased for to bestow the 
gittarre which was my Mother's on mee : you did 
give it mee when you went out of France, and then 
when I came over, you sayed I should not have it 


because it would bee broken att schoole ; that was a 
good reason, for wee lay 18 in a Chamber, but att 
this Schoole wee have but two to a Chamber, and wee 
keepe our Chamber doores loket and therfore noe 
body comes in but them which wee have a minde to 
lett in, nay and besides if they should come into the 
Chamber I have a Closet where I could putt it, but 
I am shoore there would bee noe nides [need] ; if 
there laketh a key unto it, I will have owne made. 
Heere is owne thing more is to bee putt in, that 
is if my brother would have it then I doe not peti- 
tion it of you, but hee hath a very good owne of 
his owne ' (there were at least five guitars at 
Claydon), ' and I am shure hee would not bee my 
hindrance of it. That Gittarre which is in the 
wooden casse is of noe sound att all almost, and then 
it is very ugly ; it is very corse and rude, and I am 
sure that you will not use the other which I demand 
if you please : I have a great minde for to practise 
my Lessons which I have learnt. The Wioll hath 
putt mee in love with all sorts off musikes. My 
Master doth see mee proceede soe much of the Wioll 
that hee hath promised mee to teach mee for to pleay 
of the "Lute when the Deyes groe longer ; hee hath 
also lent mee owne of his Wiolls this Christmasse 
for to practise on. I pray you not to denye mee that 
petition but lett it bee granted as your most humble 
and most obedient sonne Desires.' Sir Ralph notes 
on the outside of this appeal, ' I told him he should 
have it, or as good a one, but bid him let it rest till 


I come upp.' ' Je vous demande mille pardons,' 
Jack replies, ' de toute la paine et du tracas que vous 
prenez pour moy . . . tousjour desmeurant juqu'au 
dernier souppir de ma vie, Monsieur, cher, honore* et 
ayme pere, Vostre tres humble et tres obeissant fils.' 

Oct. 29, ' I sent Jack to Doll,' writes Dr. Denton, ' that 

she might be an ey witness how fast he growes and 
might bring y u the tale and tidings of it ; ' Aunt 
Sherard expresses the same with varied spelling 

Aug. is, ' he groos tawle ; ' and Pen declares that ' he looks 
so faire that if he ware in woman's apparill he must 
look lovely in it.' His care of his dress is in marked 

NOV. 1656 contrast to Mun's slovenliness : ' Mr. Denton the 
Taylour hath brought mee a sute of closes of the 
same Cloth that my Cloke is off : hee hath also 
brought mee a sote with a pair off uppur stokings, 
and a pair of under reade stockings.' . . . . ' I 
doe lake some blacke rubin for to make mee some 
cuffestrings and shoostrings. I have bought 
already one paire of each, but they are now almost 
worne out, and therefore I shall take one paire 
of shoestring against chrismas whether I goe to 
London or noe ... it costeth me but a grote a 
yard. I doe allso take a hatt against christmas, for 
my oulde hatt which I have now is full of holes in 
the croune of it.' 

' We shall make bold with out y r leave to have 

Jan. 3, him here this Xstmas,' the Doctor wrote, but Jack's 

1657 . . T , . 

conscience was not quite at ease. 1 hope you will 
not be angre att my being att London ; there is none 


of the schollars left att Kensington but my Masters 
sonne, which is but a very little Lade of noe com- 
pany att all, and my Brother was very willing I 
should bee with him.' A letter of Jack's to Mun, 
at the end of the holidays, illustrates the tidy habits Jan. 13, 
of the one and the carelessness of the other. ' Deare 
Brother, I goe to Kensington tomorrow, and I 
humbly thanke you for the favours which you did 
for mee whilest you were in towne. You left your 
gittarre Case att Bremers, but I carried it away to 
Mr. Gape's and it lieth in the window, behind the 
trunke in the parlour. You left also att Bremers six 
points which are to be putt a bout your briches, but 
now I have them and will keepe them ... if you 
bee at London on Shrove tuesday, I shall hope for to 
see you, for I will come and dine with Mrs. Gape. 
Soe I doe remaine your loving and most affectionate 
Brother Jo : Verney.' 

We hear of the mild dissipation of Jack's going 
1 to eat a fritter on Shrove Tuesday ' with the 
Doctor's family ; these family visits paid and re- 
ceived, and an occasional ride, seem to have made 
up the sum of his amusements. ' Monsr. Jehan Mar. 26, 
dined with us yesterday,' writes the doctor, and 
we would have kept him here, but because his 
Brother was not in y e way to say Amen to it, he 
stole home againe .... theres your obedient Boy.' 
In November 1657 Jack had an attack of ague, 
and his master's son died of the smallpox. ' It was 
out of our house that hee Died ; hee was buried 


on the llth day of this moneth,' Jack writes on the 
19th, ' but there is noe danger of any furthur pro- 
ceeding.' Jack himself was not satisfied ; he was 

June, 1657 fifteen when he wrote to his father from Kensington : 
' I pray bee not angre If you rede this that folloes, for 
If I had the disposing of myselfe, but that I have not, 
nor will not have, as long as you live, and as long as 
my Brother lives. But if I had, I would within 14 
days goe and live with Mr. Kersie, maby 3 months or 
half a yeare for to learn to cast an account, and as 
soone as I should know all things perfect, I would 
goe and bind myselfe an apprintice unto some very 
good traydesman ; and I doe know Lords sones 
which must be apprintices, and theire elder brother 
is worth 5 thousand pounds a yeare ; as for example 
my Lord Cossellton.' [Castleton.] 

Sir Ralph destined Jack for the bar, and was not 
desirous that he should have a purely commercial 
training ; he had much else to occupy his mind, 
and at eighteen Jack is still complaining that he 
is taught little that is of any practical use. His 
father had him home for the summer, and the 
boys had a happy time together and paid a visit to 
Sir Roger at Wroxall with their father. After 
Mun's return to London, Jack writes a piteous 

May, 1659 lament from Claydon : ' out of this greivous Dull 
and Sadd, Lamentable Mournefull place I doe send 
you foolish nonsensicall lines, which truly I am 
ashaimed to send from so Hideous a plaice (for lacke 
of your Compaynye) to soe Jolly a place as London. 


Melampo and Sylvio present there sarvises unto 
you and that most Respectively. Wee have not a 
Ducke more now then when you was here, yett there 
is an honest Moorehen doth sitt upon foure eggs 
in a Bush att y e side of y e Killhouse Pond, w ch I 
hope will come to a good Providence for that y e 
Pond is Payled in on y e Highway side. Two of 
your Claydon Lasses are gonne, for Walter King's 
daughter is marryed, there is owne, an John Roads 
his wife is dead (last night), there is y e other. I 
know not what you would have more, for you have 
all the Newse att Lovely London, and likewise in 
the countrye ; if you would know any about the 
Bassa [Pasha] of Aleppo you shall, but it must bee 
about 7 or 8 yeares hence.' Jack in the meanwhile 
read with Mr. Butterfield, who wrote of him : ' Mr. May, 1659 
John is very civil and studious in his way, and if he 
prove no great clerke, I am perswaded he will prove 
a very honest civill gentleman and you may have 
much comfort in him.' But this was not at all 
Jack's idea of getting on. He attacks his father 
again and again about perfecting his education, 
because ' one must have some living now adayes. I 
doe veryly thinke that I am a greate deale fitter to 
bee [in] some trade then to bee a Layer .... I 
am afraid that you are a little displeased with your 
worme for desiring to bee an apprentice ... I doe 
know that trading is much decayed, but it will bee 
some yeares before that I shall come unto it, and 
who knoweth but as it is fallen from good to bad in 


a few yeares, soe in a few more it may happen to 
change from bad to good againe.' ' I never learned 
but very little Arethmeticke, for I never did learne 
any for wayte nor for measure w ch ought to bee 
taught Rule by Rule with the other w ch is money. I 
never learned but five Rules ; it is true that I had 
begunne the 6th which is Called y e Rule of 3, but I 
was never perfect in it ; as for all the other five, 
although that I have not looked over them this 3 
yeares thourouly yett I know that in one day I 
canne make them all perfect againe. But I hope 
that Whatsoever livelyhood I shall assume to my 
self (with your consent) I shall bee able to goe 
through, but it must bee Christo Auxiliante.' Sir 
Ralph so far consented to Jack's schemes as to send 
him to a Mr. Rich, reserving his final decision till he 
had taken more advice. Lady Hobart visits Jack 
and reports that he ' is very will and licks his way as 
will ; ' it was not difficult to be taught classics, but 
arithmetic was a branch of wisdom to be dug for 
more than for hid treasures ; Jack would willingly 
give all that he had to acquire it, ' although it would 
bee but (as it were) a cromme or bitte in a loafe.' 
Sir Ralph asks Mr. Wakefield of Edmonton to give 
him an opinion. Mr. Wakefield speaks of Jack's 
Sept. 1C59 industry and patience .... His M r told mee that 
yo r sonne had done all his Arithmaticke questions, 
first fouley in paper, untill hee was perfecte in them, 
and then entered them faire into his Booke. Soe 
that I conceave, having now learnt the Theory, hee 


will be easily brought to the Practicke parte. . . . 
Mr. Riche tells mee that hee will putt him upon 
merchant accomptes, w ch cannot bee amisse in regard 
they will bee the lesse strange to him when hee 
comes to keepe them ; though merchants doe differ 
much in the manner of keeping theire accomptes. . . 
Hee writes an indifferent good hand but I feare it is 
such a sett hand that I beleeve he is slow att itt, yett 
I presume Practice will quicken his Hand.' With 
regard to an apprenticeship he says, ' I doe nott 
know as these uncertayne tymes are, whom to advise 
you too, though I have very dilligently enquired of 
divers. The Spanish Trade att present you know is 
loste, w ch was almost a 4th p rt of our employ- 
ment. To the east country and Hamburg trade you 
know I was brought up myselfe, w ch is accompted the 
surest trade ; Butt neither my Broth r nor my selfe, 
could find any great good to bee done by itt ; only 
some Auntient Rich-men, who followes itt as close 
as the Pack-Horses goes weekely ; for the Barbadoes, 
New England, and all the Hands, though many getts 
money by that trade, yet I should never advise any 
fireinds of myne to breed up his sonne too itt. And 
for the Turkey East and West India Trade, without 
itt bee some perticular men that have the knacke of 
itt, nott one in 3 of them thrives, soe that those w ch 
doe itt makes them soe high that they aske and have 
.500, and sometymes more with an apprentice, w ch 
makes mee conceave myselfe lesse able, and itt to bee 
of more hassard and difficulty then ever anything 
VOL. ill. B B 


you putt rnee upon before. I shall make a further 
enquiry, and if I heare anything worthy of yo r notice 
shall write you. Itt being in my judgement, too, 
high tyme, if you intend yo r sonne for a merchant 
speedily to looke out for a Place for him ; Hee being 
now very well growne, and 18 yeares of Age. For 
w cb reason I have knowen some men to refuse the 
taking of an Apprentice.' 

By the end of the year 1659, Jack was rewarded 
for his persistent diligence by obtaining the long- 
desired position of merchant's apprentice. Mr. Wake- 
field, the pessimist, had failed to find an opening, but 
Sir Roger Burgoyne, who had a brother in the City, 
after careful inquiry, agreed with Mr. Gabriel Roberts, 
a London merchant ' trading to the Levant seas,' to 
receive Jack, with a premium of 400, ' the same 
sum my brother had from Sir James Harrington.' 
Sir Ralph further bound himself to Mr. Roberts 
for a thousand pounds. A copy of the bond still 
exists, and the printed indenture, signed by Sir 
Roger, John Buck worth, and Gabriel Roberts. The 
terms of it are very quaint, stringent, and minute. 
The agreement is for seven years. Jack is received 
at once for a fortnight on trial. ' For his clothes,' 
Sir Roger writes, ' Mr. Roberts is to finde him after 
those are worn out that he carries along with him, 
whether on this side the sea or the other. . . . For 
the sending of him over at a certain time, my brother 
thinks it needless to stand upon it ; and for the 
return of the monys or any part of it in case he dies, 


he [Mr. Roberts] will not be obliged to it further 
then by word of mouth . . . for returning yo r sonn 
back againe to you if yo r other should dye, his ans r ; 
that if his brother dies before he goes over you shall 
have him, but if he be upon employment beyond sea, 
he will be contented to part with him provided he may 
nave 10 or 12 mounths warning for to provide 
another in his roonie, otherwise it may be much for 
his prejudice. . . . For his learning Italian it is to 
little purpose. . . . When you return there may be 
a review of all theise passages, and I trust to yo r full 
content.' Sir Ralph then came up to London, the 
seal was set to the bond, and Jack was really an 
apprentice at last. The choice made for him of a 
master proved a very fortunate one. Gabriel Roberts 
came of a Welsh family, natives of Beaumaris, 1 then so 
thriving a town that a proverb ran that men went to 
Carnarvon for lawyers, to Con way for gentlemen, 
and to Beaumaris for merchants. 

His father, Lewis Roberts, a distinguished member 
of the Levant Company, had published in 1638, ' The 
Merchantes Mappe of Commerce ' the result of l my 
own 12 years collections during my abode and 
employment in many parts of the world. The 
foundation of it is laid upon the knowledge of geo- 
graphy and of the use of the Maps and Sea- cards in 
general, so delightful, profitable, and necessary to 
the merchant.' He proposed to give an exhaustive 

1 I am indebted to the kindness of the Ven. Archdeacon D. R. 
Thomas of Montgomery for information about him. 


account of ' the natural products, artificial commodi- 
ties, manufactures, coins, weights, measures, bills of ex- 
change, etc. of most princes and republics,' but finding 
this knowledge too vast to be contained within the 
boards of a folio, 'I was constrained,' says the zealous 
Welshman, ' with the wind -scan ted Sea man, to cast 
about again and limit myself to a narrow scantling.' 
The author's friend, Izaak Walton, his cousin 
' Robert Roberts, of Llanvair in Anglesey,' and others, 
prefaced the book with some complimentary verses ; 
and in this company of bards his little nine-year-old 
son Gabriel piped in his childish treble : 

To my most deare Father, Mr. Lewes Roberts, Merchant. 

A Father's love may well excuse 
The weaknesse of my Infant Muse, 
Yet ('mongst the rest that praise thy Pen) 
As last admit me say Amen. 

The poetical child had now settled down to the 
hard prose of business life in the city, but had kept 
his warm Welsh heart and generous sympathies. 

In allowing Jack to be bound to a citizen of 
London, Sir Ralph had risen superior to many pre- 
judices of his age and his class. The tendency of the 
civil war had been to bring the profession of arms 
once more to the front, as the only one befitting a 
gentleman ; although even so great a stickler for 
Bocial etiquette as Chamberlayn considered that, ' in 
England as well as in Italy, to become a merchant of 
Foreign commerce hath been allowed as no disparage- 
ment to a gentleman born, especially to a younger 


brother.' On the other hand such few apprentices as 
were ' Persons of good Quality ' gave offence to the 
city by affecting ' to go in costly apparel, and wear 
weapons, and to frequent schools of dancing, fencing, 
and music.' Proclamations of the Lord Mayor and 
Orders of Common Council were constantly directed 
against such irregularities. Every article of an ap- 
prentice's dress was accurately denned ; he was ex- 
pressly forbidden to wear lace, embroidery in crewell 
or metal, any ' cost of needlework, or any silke in 
or about any part of his apparel ' ; there was special 
legislation even for his nightcap. Jack was therefore 
bound to wear nothing but what his master provided, 
but if Mr. Gabriel Roberts shared his countrymen's 
love of music as well as of poetry, we may hope that 
he relaxed in favour of Jack's cherished guitar the 
rule which forbade an apprentice to own a musical 

When the New Year 1660 dawned darkly upon 
England, to Jack the future seemed very bright, for 
he had planted his foot on the first step of the ladder 
that was to lead to success and honour. Sir Roger 
wrote : ' I saw both your son and Mr. Roberts 
yessterday ; they are now ingaged, and that in the 
most distracted times that ever cam.' The Levant 
Company itself was prosperous enough, and was 
diverting from the Venetians the largest part of the 
trade with the East. Lewis Roberts describes the 
great number of ships and sailors in its employ. 

1 1 am not a little satisfied in this kind of life 


Feb. i, which you have done mee the honour for to let mee 

1 / /* /\ 

choose,' Jack writes to Sir Ralph, ' and I hope it will 
bee noe less satisfactory to you then if I had beene 
an Inns of Court Gentleman.' A few weeks later he 
is in the full tide of bustle and importance, his 
presence in the warehouse is so necessary that he can 
March 14, scarcely speak to Aunt Pen. ' 1 rec d yours of y e 
llth Ap : As concerning the liking of my Trade I 
assure you (from my hearte) that I never delighted 
in any play when I was at Schoole nor in any thing 
else soe much as I doe in this trade, and alsoe in 
hearing of Business both inland and outland. I 
assure you alsoe that if I could doe my Mr. tenn 
times more servise then now I doe, I should doe it 
with a real gladdnesse. I hope that I shall soe con- 
trive my businesse that there may bee noe lett in the 
way to hinder my going Beyond Sea betweene 
Michelmasse and Christmasse ; although it will be a 
sad voyage with me for parting from soe Deare a 
ffather and Brother, yett the joy which I shall have 
after my Returne (if God bee my Guide) will farre 
excede the sorrow, butt of this thought more when 
the time shall serve. My Aunt Penelope Denton was 
here on the 12th inst. And shee would have stayed 
till I had writt a Letter to have sent by my Uncle 
Verney, butt I had noe leasure att all to writte, by 
reason of our selling of a greate parcell of silke w cb 
was that day to bee delivered, and at the day of 
delivery we have a little trouble in weighing of itt 
and severall other things, as writting bonds, Bill 


of Parcells, &c., wherefore I could not then writt 
butt was faine to Acquainte her with my buisnesse, 
to cause her to be soone gone, for that my Mr. 
was all the while in the Warehouse with him w ch 
brought y e Silke.' ' Mr. Roberts doth not att all Mar. G, 
decline from his former kindnesse, but hath taught 
mee to keepe Marchants Bookes, which indeed is 
not ordonary. The Gentlewomen likewise continue in 
their former kindness unto me, And I still continue 
att Table with them, soe If you will be pleased (if 
you thinke fitt) this lent to send mee any sort of 
your pyes to Give unto them, I shall, whether or no, 
continue your most humble and most obedient son 
and sarvant.' Clay don pies are duly sent ; the last 
' was a very good one,' John writes, ' but none can 
tell what it is, some are of opinion of one thing some 
of another, but most that it is Wild Bore.' The fair 
well-mannered youth was no doubt a pleasant 
addition to the ' Gentlewomen's ' society ; and they 
showed their kindness in a practical way a few weeks 
later by promptly sending for a ' chirurgion ' when 
he had a ' small mischance about 10 of the Clock att 
night ; a sckillett of hott Lye slipt in the fire, and 
scalded the hind part of my right legg.' Jack had 
frequent visitors, and if Mrs. Gabriel Roberts and 
her daughters craned their necks out of window to 
see the young apprentice's fashionable relations, they 
probably derived some feminine satisfaction in con- 
trasting the shabbiness of Aunt Penelope's attire with 
their own rich silk gowns and riding-hoods, for the 


worthy merchant was prospering greatly. ' Yesthar- 
day I went unporpos to see my nephew Jack Verney,' 

Mar. 28, she wrote. ' I found him very well and very earnest 
up on his implyment and I was hugly plesd to see him 

July is, so well satisfid in y e way y* he is now.' ' In earnest 

1660 . . J 

I do beelive in a short time my nevey Jack will be as 
tall as my father. I should be glad he ware so.' 

With his arduous duties in the shop, and in the 
acquiring of his master's l art,' Jack had but little 
time for letter- writing or for holiday-making during 
the first 18 months of his apprenticeship, but he was 
well content. When he did write it was with such 
conceits and nourishes, as no other pen in the family 
aspired to. 
Mar. 14, ' Noble Festus, And Loveing Brother, What time 

-j />/> A * O * 

I could possibly snatch out of the Jawes of Necessity 
I have bestowed in the writing or in the repre- 
sentative of this my affective letter unto you, and I 
desire to bee excused of your Jobs patience for that 
your anger hath not checked my negligence ; but 
now I see that you, as a Q. ffabius Maximus, have 
governed your deserved anger as hee did his Army, 
and soe did incerase his love among the Senatours 
and Commons of Rome, soe have you inflamed my 
affection for you,' &c. 

His mind continually ran on the golden prospect 

of going ' beyond sea ' ; and Alderman William Love, 

Sept 10, who advises Sir Ralph in the matter, writes : ' Since 


Mr. Roberts's returne to towne, I have discoursed 
w th him about your sonne, and find him (as formerly) 


a little troubled that his Brother hath left his affaires 
in Aleppo with Mr. Sheppard, yet still resolved to 
send your sonne thither by the first ship (haveing 
quite laid by the thought of Smyrna) and if Mr. 
Shepperd will not assist him gratis, then to make the 
best agreement he can for the first yeare ; after which 
he hopes your sonne will be a noune Substantive. 
Towards his charges of setting out I find his M r en- 
clined to give him ten or twelve pounds (as he saith 
his Master did him) w ch will not be sufficient, but if 
he performe in other respects he may be borne with 
in that. There rests onely to tell you the time of 
his going, and that is now somewhat uncertaine 
by reason of Gen. Montagu's late attempt uppon 
Argies [Algiers] ; be the issue whereof good or bad 
(for we have yet no certain newes) I feare the great 
Turke will so resent it as to seize our estates in his 
dominions, if not affront the Ambass r ; perhaps both. 
I wish I may be mistaken, yet to me it seemes too 
hazardous to adventure more estate thither till we 
hear how what already there is like to fare. If the 
majority of the comp : be of that mind sixe moneths 
may pass ere your sonne can goe ; if otherwise he 
may goe about December, though I cannot beleeve 

Sir Ralph replies : ' I see you have not been 
unmindfull of my desires concerning my young 
Marchant. . . . The truth is, I am so perfectly 
ignorant in all matters of this nature, that I am 
necessitated to give you farre more trouble then I 


can justifie . . . my most humble service to your 
good lady I beseech you.' 

In the autumn of 1661 Jack went home, and Sir 

Oct. 6, Ralph writes on his return to Mr. Roberts, ' I humbly 
thanke you for my sonn's being heere thus long ; 
truly hee had been with you at your time appointed 
but that some of my friendes pressed mee much to 
let him stay to goe upp with them, which I hope 
hath not been to your prejudice. I confesse it was 
against my will and his too in respect his time was 
out, but you know woemen are importunate, and will 
not easily bee denied ; therefore I presume you will 
the more willingly excuse both him and mee.' 
Jack's conscience on the point of outstaying his 
leave was evidently as tender as ever ! He follows 
the events of the mercantile world with keen interest, 

Jan. 2-2, and in a letter to his father gives a list of merchants 


who had failed : ' Among ye rest the 2 Wrights 
of Genoa, having from thence advice of it, (Mr. 
Bourne's Couzin,) Mr. John Sweeft and Mr. Delbo 
of London both broke in one day last weeke ; alsoe 
y e two Mr. Clearks last weeke and severall others. 
And for y e honour of red Garter, Sir William 
Gardener l (as it is all over London spoken) just 
reddy to breake, his bills of Exch : being all protested 
at Liccorne. (God be thanked) my master had not 
to doe with any of them.' 

Sir Ralph already made use of his 'prentice son 

1 Of Rocke Court, Hants, one of the sixty-eight Knights of the 
Bath made at Charles II. 's coronation. 


in his business capacity, and Jack provides with 
extreme care and minuteness for the transmission to 
Claydon of two cases of young vines. With the near 
prospect of leaving England for many years, Jack 
wrote to Sir Ralph : ' Ever Honoured Father, I take Jan. IG, 

1 fifi"? 

y 6 boldness to ask you a question which (if it please 
you) to resolve in a letter from you, yet if you thinke 
it not fitt I should know I desire your pardon. 
Accidentally discoursing with a friend of myne, who is 
not unknown in those things we discoursed on, at last 
our discourse fell upon my (intended) estate, which 
causes me to desire of you to know about (I say 
about) what estate you intend me at first and last. 
This question I could have asked you before your 
departure the towne, but that I fear'd you'd know of 
me what those words were which causes my so suddain 
curiosity,' His habitual candour makes him add in 
a postscript ' Since y e above I thought fit to tell 
you that the person within mentioned was my 
Brother, but I would not have you take any notice of 
it to him in the least, nor (if you should) give me an 
answer according to his words, but give it me as it is 
asked, cordially, with this proviso that it doth not at 
all displease you so to do.' 

Despite the respectful tone of this letter, Sir 
Ralph is evidently a good deal annoyed that a son of 
one-and-twenty should wish to know anything of his 
future prospects. ' As to what you desire about Jan. 20, 
knowing what estate I intend you at first and last, I 
confesse you may well thinke I cannot but woonder 


at your simple curiosity. I doe not understand what 
you meane by First, for now you are going to a place 
where I presume your gaines will not only keepe you, 
but if you behave yourselfe well, I hope you may lay 
upp Money too, or else the greate charge I was at 
when I bound you (and since too) was but ill- 
bestowed. But as to the other, you must know that 
children doe not use to chatechize theire Fathers 
what Estate they intend to leave them, nor indeed 
can I tell you if I would, for tis like to bee more or 
lesse as you carrie yourselfe towards me and towards 
your Master ... if you keepe lewd company, and 
by drinkinge, gaminge, or your owne idlenesse loose 
your reputation, bee confident you will thereby also 
loose my affection, and your Portion too. Therefore 
as you tender my satisfaction and your owne ad- 
vantage, carry yourselfe soberly, Honestly, and 
painfully, and then I shall thinke nothing too much 
for you. Now you know my intention and resolu- 
tion, God in Mercy direct you for the best ; this is 
and ever shall bee the prayers of your affectionate 

Sir Ralph might write severely of a breach of 
filial etiquette, as he understood it, but his affection 
for the son about to be parted from him for 12 
years was very tender and deep. He engaged Soest, 
the rival of Lely, to paint his portrait, and being 
dissatisfied with the first result induced him to 
' mend ' it before Jack left England. In March 
1662 'the King hath granted a Convoy to the 


Levant ship upon those conditions, to depart with 
a Smirna shipp and all other shipps that can be 
ready, then to set saile.' ' Most Hon : Father,' Jack April 2, 


writes, * this is to let you know that the Capt. of 
the shipp holds his resolution to be in the Downes 
by the 15 th instant ; so that now if you please to 
give order to your Cooke for a Pye, if it conies by 
the next weekes carrier it will not be to soone ; alsoe 
if you please send me 2 or 3 winter cheeses w ch I 
hope to carry to Aleppo, they being there in great 
esteeme. The next week I shall send my things 
aboard. I suppose by y e 10 th present y e shipp may 
depart from Gravesend towards y e Downes whether I 
intend to ride post to meet her. I have 3 Bottles 
belonging to a cellar of myne w ch I thinke to send to 
Mr. Gapes, there to be fil'd with strong waters. I 
suppose they all hold somewhat above 3 pintes. 
Mr. G. Roberts a day or two since gave me 2 sheetes 
of paper of advise and some other particulars, which 
at your comming to towne. if it please you, you may 
see. ... He intitles it on the backe side, viz. 
Commission given to John Yerney now bound for 
Aleppo in Siria, upon the Dover Marchant, whom 
God preserve, Gabriel Roberts.' 

Sir Ralph enters into every detail of his son's 
outfit with his usual careful kindness ; Jack agrees 
to his suggestion ' that the meat baked in Potts will 
be (as much or) more satisfactory to me than were 
it in Paste, considering all the reasons noted downe 
in yours, but espetially carredge, w ch will be farr 


easier to doe in Pots then in Crust, and I had 
demanded this way at first but that I don't 
remember I ever saw any in that maner at Claydon.' 
Mr. Roberts supplied '20 towards his outfit, 
which cost about 50, including 10 for his outlay 
on the journey. 1 John had his arms ' sett on his 
spoon,' he took his 'Viol and a bible servis and a leather 
case,' costing 8s. Qd., and Sir Ralph spent as much 
again in the purchase of Taylor's ' Holy Living and 
Dying,' Bishop Andrews' ' Devotions,' Gerard's ' Medi- 
tations,' and the ' Imitation of Christ.' The world of 
books is strangely small. Three of Sir Ralph's four 
favourites are still alive and doing good service. Sir 
Ralph had spent the last few weeks with Jack in 
London, and he accompanied him as far as Graves- 
end,- where they parted on the 29 th April, 1662. 
Jack sent a few hasty blotted lines to his ' Ever 
Hon d Father. . . This is onely to present my duty 
unto you and to begg your blessing w ch I did not 
the last night.' He wrote the next day from Deal, 
' Yesterday about 6 a Clock I set forward from 
Gravesend and went to Sidenbourne 18 miles on this 

1 ' Noate of divers things provided for Jack's voyage ' : 

Holland for caps, ' hanketchers,' and doublets .170 

Lace for the caps 49 

Cloth for 2 Pair of Socks 36 

6 Pair thread stirrup stockings . . . . 16 

' 2 Garnish of buttons ' for 2 Handkerchiefs . 34 

2 Pair of white Stockings 200 

6 p r . of Shoes and 1 pr. Slippers . . . 1 9 10 

7 p r . Gloves 90 

A Sea Bedd and bolster, Rugg, and Pillow . 1 17 6 

and Tailor's bill for . 16 10 


side ; from thence this morning I departed and came 
first to Canterbury 15 miles on this side, where I 
was forced to stay 3 or 4 houres because horses were 
scarce, and indeed but 2 to be had all over y e City, 
and them very deare, soe that I went to y e Cathedrall 
and there heard servis said and sung by y e Coristers ; 
after which I came to Deale, and there found that 
the Convoy was gone with a Smirna shipp. Here I 
am likely to stay, for y* wind is soe contrary that our 
shipp cannot come over the flatts. Here is not at 
present any merchant shipps at all ; before the 
towne lieth y e Monke frygot. now admirall of 
y e Downes, as alsoe another of His Majestyesfrygots. 
Pray remember me very kindly to my uncle Dr. 
Denton, and assure him I am very sory for coming 
away without taking my leave of him. . . If you 
have occasion to write me, you may send it downe 
post, directing it to me, passenger on the Dover 
marchant.' To Mun he says : ' For your expences, 
gifts, and troublesome journey, thanks are to small ; 
brotherly affection I have none to add to that w u I 
had for you before ; returnes in their same kind is 
for me you know impossible, soe that I must 
remayne your debtor for everything. Pray from me 
give my Cosin Alex' Denton (with if you can as 
passionate in expression as I doe write it) thankes 
for all his favours towards me and assure him . . . , 
before I depart I shall leave a letter for him.' He 
was delayed till the 4 th of May, when he writes his 
last letter to his father. 


' This morning before 8, God willing, if y e wind 
holds, I shall set sayle for Livorno whether God send 
us in safety : truly I am very glad wee shall depart 
soe soone, for this is a very cut-throat place, and 
besides for a farther helpe to away with money I 
was faine to lay in 20s. more for fresh provision, by 
reason that one of our passengers is fallen sicke and 
soe wee casted up our money short, soe that wee lay 
in 61. a peece. Sheepe cost us here 22s. y e sheepe : 
hens 3s. y e couple : barley 40s. y e quarter : oats 3s. 
y e bushell : duckes 2s. y e couple, etc. ; they have 
not bene knowne soe deare this good while, but 
there hath beene such great shipping of late that all 
things are deare. Most of y e Poultry is now ingrost 
for the Jamaca shipps, soe that we had much adoe 
to get 40 couple notwithstanding it is market day at 
Sandwich. Sir having but little time I humbly 
begg your blessing, prayers, and leave to be your 
most humble and most obedient sonn. 7 Mun's 
affectionate note in reply to Jack's last, cannot have 

May 5, reached him ; it was chiefly to say ' The Love of 
Heaven be with you and blesse you, my deare 

The journey to Aleppo was accomplished in 3^ 
months. Jack wrote home every few weeks as occasion 
offered. Having fallen in with a homeward-bound 

May 14, frigate off Cape St. Mary, he has only time for a 
hasty note to his father. ' On May the 6 th we mett 
with the Queene and the fleet her convoy, off of 
Faymouth ; this morning we espj^ed a fleet of 26 


saile of shipps which are yet unknowne to us, they 
being at sterne ; we also this morning espyed a fleet 
of 18 saile at head among w ch was the Assistance 
frigot by w cb I send you this.' The next is from 
Leghorn. ' This is to advise you of my arrivall into June 20 


this Port from whence I hope to be gonn in 8 or 10 
dayes. I should have given you an account of my 
arrivall sooner but that I departed for Pisa, Florence, 
etc., to see those sights w ch are at St. Jn's tide 
selebrated in the last city, where I have continued 
this 9 dayes. S r it being very late at night and 
myselfe somewhat tyred having come post this day 
from fflorence (w ch is 60 miles) notwithstanding the 
heat of y 6 weather and y e Badd horses I shall con- 
clude, assuring you to write you somewhat more 
larger by some Gentlemen w ch lately came from 
Aleppo and are proceeding for England over land in 
40 Dayes.' Jack comes across Dr. Kirton at 
Florence, who begs to send his old friend Sir Ralph 
his ' most humble servis.' He reaches Scanderoon 
on July 26, 1662, 'having toucht noe where but at 
Cyprus.' The 20th of August finds him arrived at 
Aleppo, whence he writes to his brother a string of 
requests ; ' the shipps being upon departure,' he 
ends abruptly. ' The thankes for y e trouble I putt 
you to at my departure from England ... is but 
an usher for another, for I must hereby desire you to 
buy me saddle stirrups with acconiodacon to hang 
holsters on, alsoe a lite bitt and raynes for it. ... 
A sortment of Lyro Violl strings ; at least 5 
VOL. ill. C C 


Terebles, 4 seconds, 3 thirds, 1 fourth, 1 fifth, and 
1 sixth, and a bridge ; ' his own is broken and glued 
together again, but not right. His fair hair that 
Soest had painted so carefully ' being already almost 
all come off/ he asks for a wig, and he ' must goe in 
the Turkish mode before it comes.' 

It was a far cry from Mr. Gabriel Roberts' back 
shop in the City, where the bales of silk were 
weighed, to the flat white roofs, the domes and 
minarets of the mosques, and the burning sunshine 
of a Syrian summer, and we long to know something 
of Jack's impressions on arrival. The youth who 
spent the time while waiting for relays, in attending 
the choral service in Canterbury Cathedral ; and 
who rode 60 miles of dusty road twice over on bad 
post-horses to witness the Feast of St. John the 
Baptist in the City of Flowers, must have had a 
mind that was not fed on ' marchants' accompts ' 
alone. It was easier to ask for stirrup leathers and 
viol strings, than to write down what he felt on 
leaving the familiar surroundings of the English 
merchant ship to begin life alone on that glaring 
foreign shore ; and it may be that as he folded and 
sealed his packet of home letters, his mind's eye was 
filled, not with the fine Moorish architecture, the 
string of pack-camels, and the picturesque crowd of 
dark-skinned and turbaned figures, but with the 
homely brick walls, the soft grey skies, and the 
branching elm trees of Clay don. 




' A time to die.' 


A CERTAIN form of fever and ague, known during 
the time of the Civil War as ' the ISTew Disease,' 
swept over several counties in 1657-8, carried off 
many familiar faces at Claydon and Hillesden, and 
united in a common death men who in life had long 
been foes and rivals. 

The summer had seen the establishment of Crom- 
well's second protectorate. ' Yesterday his Highness June 27, 
was in Westminster Hall,' writes an eyewitness, ' with 
the Parl* the L d Mayor & Aldermen & the Judges, 
where he took an oath & was proclaimed Lord Pro- 
tector of England, Scotland & Ireland, with three 
great shouts made by the soldiers & some few others. 
I was there & saw him in his King-like robes. He 
came through the Hall in great state.' l Sir Ralph 
was once more engrossed in his building and planting, 
so much so indeed that Aunt Sherard writes : ' I am in Ma J 14 > 


som feres as you air sent to Jamaicos amongest the 

1 Roger Fleming in the Fleming MSS. Hist. MSS. Com. 1890, 
No. 319. 

c c 2 


gold findors, but if you air within the compas of being 
hurd from, pray let me have the hapines of A line or 
tow from you.' 

The epidemic broke out in the Claydon villages at 
the close of a hot summer, and soon spread to the 
House. William Gape describes how people are 
flocking up to town from the country districts to 
avoid infection. Sir Ralph, on the contrary, who is 
away on a visit, hurries back to Claydon to do his 
best for the sick in the villages as soon as he hears of 
the outbreak. Mrs. Westerholt is ill, and one after 
another of Sir Ralph's servants and workmen are 
Aug. is, disabled. ' The Bay Mare is unable to fetch the 

1 fi^7 

bricks, she has been lent ' to Roger Deely " to fetch 

a surgeon to his sonn, whose Heele is gangreaned.' 

Aug. 27, < I am sorry to heare Parson Aris is in any dainger,' 


writes Dr. Denton, ' I pray God fitt him and us for life 
and death. I long to heare of him. There is one dead 
of the plauge this weeke att White chappell.' The 
Rector's strength did not hold out for many days ; 
Aug. si, he died on August 29. The Doctor is ' heartily 
sorry for Honest Parson Aris. I doubt she will not 
live longe after. For all the little Peekes that were 
betweene you, I wish noe worse may succeed.' ' I am 
confident,' writes Penelope, ' M rs Aris is a very sadd 
widdow, I pitty her with all my hart.' Sir Ralph 
desires to have ' the 2 Church Bookes, or any such 
publique papers or noates concerning the Church or 
Towne .... all papers concerning the Parsonage as 
letters & noates, and all papers or letters con- 


earning any differences betweene M r Aris & me, 
or my Father and Him, that they may be burnt.' 
Mr. Aris was buried, on September 1, at Middle 
Clay don, having been Rector of the Parish for twenty- 
seven years. The last time his name appears in the 
registers, which he had written up so carefully, is at 

the burial of ' Thomas Faulkener formerly Dairyman ^iay 9, 

J . 1711 
& Servant to M r Aris, Rector,' who had kept his 

master's memory green for more than fifty years. 
Ralph Roades, the truculent Parish Clerk, lived out 
the century, but his brother the Steward, Mr. Aris' 
doughty opponent and rival, was the next to be 
attacked by the fever. 

Sir Ralph writes to Lady Warwick : ' Madame, Sept. 17, 
I had not a servant to send to satisfie my selfe of the 
condition of your health, for all these parts have been 
sorely visited, and particularly this very Towne, in 
soe high a manner, that since I writ last to your 
Ladishipp, heere hath been 40 or 50 sick at a time, 
whereof the Parson, and 8, or 9 more are already 
dead, and at this hower many are dangerously sick, 
and still sicken dayly. I thanke God my selfe & 
sonne are well, but (excepting one) there is not a 
man servant in my house that hath not been very ill, 
and are yet soe weake, that I am forced to hier others 
to assist & tend them.' This description recalls our 
own household experiences of the influenza. Mrs. 
Sherard is in the same case : she herself ' hath gott 
this new disease, or a longe tertian or a Quarterne, be 
which it will, it handles her very severely, and there 


went 7 or 8 one day sick out of her house that came 
well in.' She herself writes : ' On my well dayes I 
macke A shift to creepe downe to diner and have a 
good stomack to my ineaght, but I am faine to eaght 
but A litill.' Sir Roger's family had also ' drunk 
pretty deeply of that cup.' The Doctor considers that 
1 London is the healthiest place.' 

The same epidemic is mentioned by Lady Fan- 
shawe, 1 as ' a very ill kind of fever of which many 
died, and it ran generally through all families ; ' she 
and her husband and her household fell sick of it : 
she ate l neither flesh, nor fish, nor bread, but sage 
posset drink, & pancake or eggs, or now and then a 
turnip or carrot.' Lady Hobart had a more comfort- 
able prescription. ' If you have a new discs in your 
toun pray have a car of yourself & goo to non of them ; 
but drinck good ale for tis the gretis cordall that is : 
I live by the strenth of your malt.' 

Will Roades's illness ran its course, and the 
anxiety about him was increased by the fact that Dr. 
Denton was unable to be with him. The Doctor had 
been overworked all the autumn. ' I was at Maiden, 
where there is a very sick house,' he wrote ; ' Charles 
& Dick [Goode] both sick, but recovered and about 
the house ; & yett last night I was sent for post 
[from his farm on the Fens] for that Charles had 
fainted away. W. Gape is now with him, & how he 
doth I know not. Ben Moor wood, who married his 
sister, I doubt will dye of this new disease, there's alsoe 

1 Lady Fanshawe's Memoirs, p. 125. London, 1829. 


10 sick att this time in M r Harvey's house. It reigns 
generally, I pray God blesse us all & fitt us for life 
and death.' 

The Doctor went on to Thame Park to attend his 
old friend Lady Wenman and a young Hobart, who 
was taken dangerously ill while on a visit to her. He 
wrote thence : ' I longe tohearehow Will & Michaud & ^P*- 19> 
Charles doe, and what you have done to them, cer- 
tainly it is best to let Will bleede againe.' Two days 
later he writes : ' Hobart is fallen extreme ill (I feare Sept. 21, 
of the small poxe) whom I have vomited and blooded, 
& it's now my business to get a lodginge for him at 
Thame (soe fearfull are they here). I was designed 
for Boarstall this day by promise, & from thence to 
Lady Verner, & to Sir Arthur Hasilrigge, but I doubt 
I shall be able to doe neyther. I see noe daunger of 
W m R : & if he had followed your advice by taking 
of a vomitt & if that had not done it, then to have 
beene blooded, I beleeved he had beene well ere this. 
It is the best thinge & the surest & quickest he can 
yett doe, therefore I pray lett him have one yett. 3 
full spoonfulls of the vomitinge liquor in possett 
drinke will doe well, & he may abide 4 the same 
night when he goes to rest ; let him take the weight 
of vi 118 of Diascordium, the next day or the next but 
one, he may be blooded in the arme about 20 ounces. 

Endorsed : ' W. Roade may open this letter if he 
will.' On the same day Sir Ralph wrote a long 
business letter to Roades. He had been to inquire 
after his sick daughter Miller, ' who rested much 


better this night. I hope she & you will mend 

The Doctor, mindful of Sir Ralph's anxieties, 
Sept. 25, writes again from Thame Park : ' Hobart died on 
wenesday morninge & which is worse, his death 
was occasioned by 3 daies excessive drinking, he was 
buried in Thame church, with such decency as these 
times & my Lord's family could afford. . . . My 
ladies extreame illness these 3 or 4 daies hath con- 
tributed alsoe to hinder my journey to Ely. She 
hath had some ease this day, & soe I hope I may 
goe on munday. I longe to hear how W m R. dothe. 
I pray make my excuse to him that I could not see 
him, for really I am extreame sorry that it fell out 
at such a time, that I could not possibly stirre, and 
indeed I have been soe tied to attendance, that I have 
not made one visitt since I came but to Wheatfields 
[to the Ishams], & which much discornfitts me I 
have not one horse that I can bestride with pleasure. 
Kate, after her love & service to you for your invi- 
tation, saies she thought you had more witt, then to 
invite people to trouble you when your Cooke & the 
other servants are soe sickly. ... A little of the 
story of the mare & colt would not doe amisse. Vale. 
Yours, W M D.' 

By the time this letter arrived Will Roades was 
beyond the help of earthly remedies, and on the 28 th of 
September, within a month of the Rector's funeral, the 
Steward was laid beside him in the little peaceful church- 
yard. The loss of these two men was a heavy blow to Sir 


Ralph, though he had been quite aware of their failings ; 
they had grown up with him, and both Parson and 
Steward were part of his familiar life at Clay don. 
' Old friends are best,' Selden said, ' King James used 
to call for his old shoes : they were easiest for his feet,' 
and Sir Ralph agreed with King James. 

' I no sooner hard of M r Roads is deth,' Pen Oct. 7, 
Denton wrote, ' but I was very sencible that you 
ware full of trouble,' and even Tom felt grateful 
' in regard of his civill respect towards me when I 
was in want.' 

Roades had gone on with his work to the last, 
and letters about the estate kept arriving for him 
during his illness and after his death. But all Sir 
Ralph's punctuality and preciseness had never made 

his agent into a good man of business. ' I am much July 28, 

troubled your man Rodes has left your accounts soe 

imperfect,' writes Nat Hobart, ' but alas poore man he 
was taken away soe suddenly that I beleeve he had 
not time to perfect them & his owne too.' 

Of the account he had to render to a higher than 
his earthly master, we may hope he had not been as 
unmindful ; one of his untidy scrawls to Sir Ralph 
closes with these words : ' Only let me intreat you to Jiy 28, 

C 1 11 I 1656 

pray tor me to god so much as to keep me his servant 
which is my continual prayer, and then I hop my 
death will not com suddenly, for preparation is the 
only way that is the dutie of your humble servant 

John Roades was as little fit to succeed him in 


the management of the Claydon estate as Richard 
Cromwell was to succeed his father in the government 
of the Commonwealth ; but, happier than Richard, 
the chance was not given him of displaying his in- 
capacity. Sir Ralph took matters into his own hands, 

March 29, and wrote after six months of this experience : ' I 
have been & still am (besides all my other 
businesse) on such tickle terms with some of my 
tenants, who (contrary to my agreements & ex- 
pectation) endeavour to kick upp 3 or 400Z. a yeare 
into my hands at a few dayes warning, that I canot 
stirre a day from home, having too frequent occation 
to make new treaties with one or other of them, & 
haveing noe Bayliffe I am forced to doe it all 

William Gape, the excellent apothecary, was also 

Oct. 9, ailing in that sad autumn of 1657. ' Mally and 

1657 J 

your servant are very sorry wee shall not see 
Claydon this sommer ; you may well beleive mee 
when I must tell you my voyse is lower then ever, 
my throate more soare, and which is worst of all I 
have suffered a great difficulty of breathing this fitt. 
These are all alarmes to tell mee whither I must goe 
and that my winter quarters are preparing for mee. 
God almighty sanctifie all these signes to mee that I 
may make a right use of his mercyes et fiat voluntas 

The filling up of the living gave Sir Ralph great 
anxiety ; he dreaded above all things that an aggres- 
sive Presbyterian or Independent should get hold of 


it. His neighbour, Mr. Buncombe, had recently 
appointed a clergyman to his living of Brick Hill, 
and a minister very distasteful to him had, at the 
same time, obtained the promise of it from the Govern- 
ment. After a protracted suit, Mr. Buncombe's 
nominee had been obliged to retire. Sir Ralph was 
determined that no applicant should be able to 
represent his living as vacant, so the breath was 
scarcely out of Parson Aris' body before he had 
offered it to the Rev. Edward Butterfield, of Preston 
Bissett, of whose talents as a peacemaker he had re- 
tained so agreeable an impression. Mr. Butterfield, 
who was a widower with children, accepted with 
alacrity ; but this was only the commencement of the 
business. Besides a ' donation, or a presentation, or 
both,' he was to produce a certificate that the parish 
desired him for their minister. Fortified with all the 
documents he could collect, Mr. Butterfield went to 
town to go through the searching ordeal of Crom- 
well's ' Triers.' The Protector was more anxious to 
secure ministers of high character and learning than 
to test their theological orthodoxy by any narrow 
standard. It was not, therefore, Mr. Butterfield's 
Church doctrines that were the subject of inquiry so 
much as his past life and ministry. The Triers had 
a wholesome distrust of testimonials, and accepted 
recommendations from those men only whose personal 
knowledge of the candidate was both intimate and 
recent. But having courted a safe obscurity in his 
rural living, it was difficult for a country parson of 


the old opinions to find a ' Commissioner Minister ' 
from whom he could obtain such a recommendation. 
Sept. 10, ' At my coming to London,' writes Mr. Butterfield, 
' missing of the Doctor, I went to Sir Orlando 
Bridgman who told mee I wanted a Minister's hand 
to my certificat, and wisht mee to take witnes with 
mee to deliver in my presentation ; so M r Gape went 
w th mee about it. Then I was informed the like of 
the defect of my certificat, thereupon I took my 
horse intending for the country, but because they told 
mee I must have some Cofnissioner Ministers hands, 
or that were well known to the Tryers. I went to 
two Comiss : Ministers that I had a little acquaintance 
w tb (not knowing any such neere us) who gave mee 
this test : that they had some personall knowledge of 
mee, & did verily beleeve that which the gent : had 
certifyed was true. With this I went back to the 
clarke, who assured mee this being yet short of the 
words of the Ordinance, would hardly passe ; so I 
went to a Minister in London well known to the 
tryers, . . . who gave mee this test: that he had long 
since known mee to be a person of a godly sober 
blameles conversation, which are the words of the 
Ordin. yet by reason of this restrict long since, I 
doubt whether it may be sufficient : there hath beene 
no full comittee since my coming up, so that it hath 
little retarded my busines, onely it hath much 
saddened my thoughts and put mee somew* out of 
conceit w th the busines. I delivered your letter to 
M r Drake, who gave mee very good words, after sent 


mee a letter to one M r Cooper, one of the tryers that 
lives I know not where, and if he can, will be at 
Westminster fryday. Sir should these yet fail, I 
would desire you to send this inclosed to our Minister 
at Preston, and if he can returne it to you or send it 
up by our Carrier to be heare ready against Wednes- 
day next I shall attend it so long, els I must intreat 
you to pitch upon some other person as soone as you 
can that you suffer not by more delay. I am Sir your 
very sad but true friend & servant, E. BUTTERFIELD.' 

Sir Ralph loses no time in replying : ' Mr. Sept. 12, 
Butterfield, Last night very late I received yours 
of the Tenth instant, & have already sent away 
your letter to M r Pepps at Preston, who I presume 
(if hee bee at home) will dispatch your businesse, 
but I hope your worke will bee donn without it ; if 
not, I pray come doune, & procure your owne certi- 
ficate & then I doubt not, but you may have it in 
as ample manner as you please. I am glad you have 
deliver'd my presentation before Witnesse, soe that noe 
Legall advantage may bee taken : if they will not 
admit you, without a better certificate I pray appl}- 
your selfe to S r Orlando Bridgman, & know of him 
what is fit to bee further donn for the preservation of 
your interest, & my owne, for I am resolved to doe 
all that in mee lies to place you neare mee, therfore 
bee not sadd, but rather let this little opposition 
make you more sollicitous in the businesse, & assure 
your selfe you shall not bee forsaken by your most 
affectionate friende to serve you, R. V.' 


Mr. Butterfield, having at length satisfied the 
Triers, found a hot discussion raging, on his return to 
Claydon, between Widow Aris and her brother-in-law 
Nick as to the late Rector's liabilities : both appealed 
to him to settle the dispute. They differed as to the 
repayment of a sum of 20. lent by John Denton to 

Sept. 14, the Rector, and on many other matters. ' Sister.' 
wrote Nick Aris, . . . ' I have not time to give a 
full answer to soe pollitick a letter as yours is, being 
writ by advice of your councell. ... I finde you 
expect my Oath, soe doe I yours, havinge farre the 
greater cause. . . . Sister, Wise men did beleeve you 
would have dealt more civiller with your husband's 
servant of 40 yeares standing & your owne of 
26 yeares, but I aske nothing but justice from 
you.' The din of battle lasted several months, ap- 
parently to the great satisfaction of the disputants. 
But another question touched Mr. Butterfield more 
nearly. The rectory was much out of repair, and 
his claim for dilapidations against Mrs. Aris was a 
heavy one. He wrote to Sir Ralph in some dis- 

Feb. 14, courasrement. ' I hope God will some way or other 


answere my desires, either by enabling mee to under- 
goe & execute successfully what I have undertaken, 
or by presenting some fitter person to your approba- 
tion, to whom I shall cheerfully resigne all that little 
interest I have, & conclude the latter part of my 
dayes in peace & silence.' Mrs. Aris' voice seems 
to be ever ringing in his ears. ' Sir, I have, with as 
little satisfaction to myselfe as to the parties litigant, 


composed the matters in suit between Mrs. Aris & 
Nick : Aris, & I have now the ID/, controversy in 
hand, as full of difficulty as the former every whit. 
How the wit of man should reconcile these contradic- 
tions & absurdities, maintained with such high 
protestations & improbabilities I see not. For my 
part I despair of receiving satisfaction, yet if things 
are not too foule, I am resolved to make an end of it. 
Tis pitty the dead man cannot be raised againe to 
resolve the riddle. I could even venture my Par- 
sonage for satisfaction.' He compounded for his 
firstfruits, which came to 31. Is. 6d. ' You oive Feb - 18 > 


me more thanks for ordering your businesse of 
your first-fruits,' writes Sir Ralph. ' then if I had 
payd the money out of my owne purse. I did not 
thinke you had [been] soe greate a courtier : next 
weeke I purpose to bee at home, & then I will 
quarrell with you for it. & thats all the disputes I 
intend to have with you, and I confesse my earnest 
desires to hasten the finishing of your house, that I 
might have more of your company & advice for I 
can truly say, I respect you soe much, & love you so 
well, that I am confident I shall like Claydon much 
the better and spend more time there, when you are 
settled in it.' 

Did the gentle Mr. Butterfield, who was ner- 
vously anxious to conciliate everybody, find it a task 
beyond his powers to dislodge Mrs. Aris from her old 
home, to take possession of it himself, and to wring 
from her the ever-odious charges for dilapidations ? 


Report said that she had taken to her bed with grief 
and vexation, which must have increased the difficul- 
ties of the situation. Whatever the explanation may 
be, scarce eight months of the lady's widowhood had 
elapsed before the fresh incumbent, with great sub- 
mission, laid his heart and fortune at her feet, and 
married her with the least possible delay. So the 
ghost that troubled the new Rector's slumbers was 
laid ; and though the dilapidations were further 
' ravelled into ' by the Patron and Cousin Dormer, 
the amount was a matter of indifference, now that Mrs. 
Butterfield could pay it out of one pocket into the 
other. The Rector indeed still toyed with his griev- 
ance. ' I cannot excuse M r Aris his improvidence in 
letting things go so to rack,' he wrote a year later, 
' which a little timely inspection might so easily have 
prevented, without any considerable charge to him- 

There are few comments in the letters upon the 
marriage. Aunt Isham lived sufficiently far away to 
be able to say with a clear conscience that she 
thought it ' as sutable a mach as could be ; but what 
with M rs Aris' grife & her sicknes I thought it could 
not a bine so soone. And talkes will goe, for I was 
tolde all this tattle as she was abeade when she was 
maried ... but I tolde them noe such thinge . . . but 
women doe mad thinges sometimes.' It was not the 
woman who seemed to be doing ' mad things ' in the 
opinion of Claydon, but Sir Ralph prudently held his 
tongue, and was content to execute his friend's 


wedding errands in town. ' I would intreat you to 
remember mee in a bargaine of chaires & stooles for 
my Parlour,' wrote the Rector, who was refurnishing 
with great zeal, ' if you happen to light on any you 
think fitting : & I think 6 pieces of hanginge, if met 
with accidentally at the second hand, might all things 
considered be easyest had to furnish up the roome ; 
but in this as in all other things I am willing to 
submit to your better judgment.' ' I would gladly 
bestow a matter of 81. in Wainscot for my parlour,' he 
wrote again, ' rather then go to a much higher price 
for Hangings, & then I should like very well this 
painted lether for a suit of chaires & stooles, & 
Carpet too for it ; but that may be resolved on 
timely enough, when the wainscot is ready to set 

Another time he asked Sir Ralph to consult Dr. Jan. 3, 

1 C "*O 

Denton about ' Sister Tayler,' who was piteously 
afflicted with a strange infirmity in her stomach . . . 
that doth still follow her.' The Lady, however, to 
Mr. Butterfield's great annoyance, had not patience 
' to expect an answer from London, but must needs 
send for one of the Mountebanks from Bucks, who 
tells her she is past physicke, but makes no question 
to recover her with looking on her, telling her 2 or 3 
senseless stories & taking some of her moneys.' 

In the troubled months of Richard Cromwell's 
protectorate, when all England is tossed about with 
uncertainty, Mr. Butterfield is comfortably settled at 
Claydon Rectory. ' The dangerous aspect of our state 



affairs troubles my thoughts not so much in reference 
to my own condition as the publique good.' He writes 
two days before Richard's fall : ' Tis a pleasant time in 
the country & quiet ; onely tradeing is dead & most 
men are full of feares.' Mr. Butterfield became the 
founder of a dynasty, as he and his son and 
grandson were Rectors of Middle Claydon for the 
next hundred years. 

The ' ill wind ' which had at least brought a bene- 
fice to a good man was still blowing in Bucks, and 
on October 17, 1657, the young Squire of Hillesden 
was carried off. The Civil War had laid heavy 
burdens upon shoulders too young to bear them, and 
Edmund Denton, as a mere boy, became the owner of 
an exhausted estate and of a mansion in ashes. With 
careless generosity he had squandered his wife's large 
De c. 11, fortune. Dr. Denton had repeatedly counselled pru- 
dence. He wrote to Sir Ralph : ' I knew not (though I 
advised it a yeare or two since) that Mun's resolution 
was to leave Bucks & to goe & live like Hermit 
poore in Glocestershire ... it is most high time. I 
have examined his debt & I finde it above 17,000, 
besides Annuities, shop-bookes etc : soe that I cannot 
thinke it lesse then 20,000, and it is encreased in one 
yeare above 1,000. This will eat while he sleepes. 
We have advised with Ned [Sir Ed. Fust] about it 
very seriously & very sadly you may thinke ; & it 
is concluded that parcimoney will never pay it, noe 
nor a small sale. His wive's Land must pack, where 
in his power, which some say will pay 10 others 8, 


but we reckon betweene both, 9,000. . . . Cowley 
we say alsoe must pack, & some part alsoe of 
Hillesdon. This tasts bitter, but rather soe then all. 
One yeare will tell more . . . he is not in a condition 
to stand uppon small things . . . and he will doe all 
reasonable acts. He would have you satisfied . . . 
aske but reason, & it must not be denyed. Hee 
had better expose to sale then be driven to it. ... It is 
noe time to have any differences with relations, neigh- 
bours, noe not clownes ... or there will be a quarrel 
with the whole Bench. I have taken this thorne also 
out of his foot, to putt it in myne owne. He must not 
displease, a mere recognisance to him would be his 
ruine, noe man would dare buy of him, except 
Robbin Hoods pennyworths, 1 which would be his 
ruine. It was his & my father's ruine to sell only to 
pay interest, he hath hitherto but ridden the same 
horse. I am soe concerned for his condicion that it 
breakes me many an houres sleepe.' It does not 
appear that this scheme of retrenchment was carried 

In the summer of 1656 a hastily scrawled note 
reached Dr. Denton from Edmund's next brother 
Alexander : ' I am much troubled for my Brother Aug. i, 

J 1656 

[George]. I can hardly persuade the Doctors to 
come to him, for they say they cannot helpe him. 
Neither can I procure a Minister to come to him, 
which troubles me very much hee being so insensible 
of Dying ; for I cannot but lament, & wish & desire 

1 Pieces of land sold for half their value. 


the prayers of you all for him, who I doubt cannot 
now pray for himselfe.' George died the following 
day. His will is full of affectionate bequests to his 
brothers and sisters : he desires that his debt should 
be paid ' out of the moneyes lately received of Richard 
Berin, Linen draper.' He left to ' M r William Okley 
40^. to preach my Funerall sermon,' and desired to be 
buried ' in the Chancell of the Parish Church of 
Hillesdon at the discreation of iny deare Brother 
Edmund Denton Esq re .' In little more than a year 
his elder brother was laid beside him. 

NOV. 17, Edmund Yerney was ailing also with ' a loathinge 

of meat and queaziness of stomach,' and Dr. Denton 
wrote quite anxiously: ' We see yonnge men drop as 
well as old, and we cannot be too carefull one of 
another, our number decreasing soe dayly.' 

' This particular Mortalyty to this sweet man' afflicts 
Gary extremely, ' so affectionat a frend as Mun Denton, 
so faithfull & good humoured A persone is rare to find.' 
Mrs. Isham also missed her nephew sorely ; the older 
relations could always count upon a welcome at his 
board. She writes the next spring : ' I sent our nue 
man to call att Hilsdon & bringe me worde how they 
all doe, & but that I send to see them now & then, 
they may be all bureid a Live for any thinge I heare 
froine them selves : and sure itt would be contente to 
my minde if I could not thinke of them so much as 
I doe, but I loved the good man so well as is dead, as 
I shall love them I feare how ever. I cannot rite noe 
more itt doth so treble me.' 


Alexander Denton, some seven weeks after his 
brother's death, is anxious lest the young widow at 
Hillesden should break through the strict etiquette of 
mourning by paying a quiet visit to a brother-in-law, 
and refers the question to Sir Ralph. ' Hillesdon. Sir, Dec. 3, 
My sister Denton having very often upon all occasions 
most earnestly expressed mee to let her know if either 
I knew or heard anything shee did, or was like to doe, 
that might Argue any disrespect to her deare deceased 
Husband : shee alwaies professing her selfe altogether 
extreame ignorant of these sad ceremonyes of mourn- 
ing ; although I am confident most expert in the 
reallity thereof : And I finding her departure hence 
to my bro : Woodwards so soone as her dolefull 
moneth is out, to bee by some very severely censured, 
now her chamber & house & servants are all in theyre 
black attyre : Thought my selfe very much engaged 
to let her know the sense, if I myselfe knew, whether 
it would also appeare so bad in the world, or that it 
were the custonie not to remove in such case ; of 
which beeing altogether Ignorant I have therefore 
made this my Addresse to you . . . earnestly desiring 
your opinion herein with as much speed & privacy as 
may bee, what is the custome, & how her departure 
in this case is like to appeare in the eye of the world.' 
In the interests of the poor young widow, and her 
three little boys, we should have preferred to submit 
the matter to Dr. Denton ; Sir Ralph was sure to be 
on the side of the ' ceremonyes,' but his reply has not 
come down to us. 


June so, . An impoverished Royalist, Dr. John Castle, 
alleged that he had lent money to Sir Edmund, and 
pressed this summer for repayment in ' my extreme 
Necessities, who have lost above 6,000/., for the Crime 
of my dutie to my late Master in my attendinge him 
at Oxford, as Clarke of his Privie Seale. ... D r 
Denton once told my brother Sir George Theobalde 
that you intended to pay me.' Sir Ralph, however, 
did not admit his liability for this debt. 

Lady Gawdy was celebrating a great event in her 
family, the marriage of her eldest son Charles to Lady 
Mary Feilding, ' the pretty daughter of my Lord of 
Desmond ' (brother of the Earl of Denbigh) ' with 
4,000/.' Doll Leeke complains that he had been too 
much run after. ' I am sorry for our sex, for thay goe 
a beging,' but he is ' fixed at last.' 

Sept. 4, She writes from Croweshall : ' M r Gaudy was 

maried one Saterday was fortnight and at this time 
all the company is at Crowshall. You may ges how 
full our hous is whan my lady & all hir faimily of 
women ly in the vane rouff over the dining chamber. 
We have a prety bride & thay are I belive very will 
plesed with one another. . . . Ernes the wine coper 
& Blaynes brother has bought Gidy hall [Lady 
Gawdy's own property] ; they give 9,000 pound. 
My dear lady grevs that it should be sould to such 
mean parsons. . . . All our company is gon to se Hel- 
mingham, Sir Lionell Tallemachs hous. I stayed at 
home to right this. . . . My lady is gon with them. . . . 
The bride & bridgroorn desirs your good wishes.' 


Nothing could be more charming than the welcome 
Lady Gawdy gave the young couple, when, after their 
short honeymoon, ' M r Gawdy brought the Lady 
Mary home.' Lady Hobart writes : ' Now I must sept. 25, 
let you know the gret fam of dear Lady Gadys en- 
tertanment ; it is sayd to be as much beyond them 
all as can be expressed, and in that order, as if thar 
had bin nothing to be don in the hous, but to wat 
on the compny. All the contry sent hur in presants 
she had 4 bras of bucks and fish and fruts and all 
good things, and when they cam horn, thay war met 
with in thre mils of the hous, with 6 scor hors of the 
gentill men and youmen, and at Debnham all the 
wemin with garlands and flours, and strowed them 
horn to the hous, whar my Lady and hur compeny 
and sarvants wated on hur, and the musick folowed 

Two other marriages announced to Sir Ralph by Sept. so, 
Cousin Stafford interested him extremely. ' The 
Duke of Bucks is maried to Lord Fairfax his dau r ; & 
the mariage of the Protector's dau r to Warwick's 
sonne, is forthwith to bee solempnized.' ' My Lord Oct. 29, 
Duke is with his bride,' writes Dr. Denton, ' & my 
Lord Fairfax is come to town to mediate, I hear 
nothing yet of his reception.' The Earl and Countess 
of Warwick had become more and more influential 
in the Protector's Court ; the Royalists said that he 
had made more money ' than any man who trafficked 
in that desperate commodity rebellion.' Cromwell 
had a real affection for Warwick, and now the 


Nov. 11, marriage of his grandson Robert Rich and the Lady 
Frances Cromwell was celebrated with great magni- 
ficence and attended by many persons of quality. 
The country seemed to have settled down under 
Cromwell's rule ; even Henry and his grand friends 
wish to be reconciled with the powers that be. 
' Kirke, My L d Protector's Rider is dead,' writes Dr. 
Denton, ' & H. V. would have succeeded, & tried my 
L d Richard & Lord Claypole, but it seemes noebody 
shall succeed.' 

Cousin Stafford sends a queer story to Sir Ralph 
in November. ' I heare Sir Arthur Haselrigg is fallen 
into a desperate nott, by defending a possession 
against the sherife and some troops of horse, which 
he did beate from a house and lande, which hee had 
recovered by law, and by a second verdict lost the 
same againe, and hee pursuing his opportunity upon 
the sheriff's recess for more aide, possessed hiuiselfe 
of Newcastle upon Tyne, where in a hostile manner 
hee defends himselfe. This is Sir C. Packe's newes, 
which hee related something doubtfully ergo quer : ' 
This letter was accompanied by ' a bundle of Sweet 
Briar plants and fine Figg setts/ for which Sir 
Ralph was to give him in return ' a dozen young 
wallnutt trees, as many Chesnuts & Almons, fowre 
young firs and a pyne.' Sir Ralph persevered with 
his improvements. Mulberry trees and red roses are 
being planted at Claydon ; and ' 300 Asparagus 
Plants ' arrive from a nursery gardener with some 
' Double violettes blue & white, 100 of goodlie July 


flowres, sweet Marjoram & Lemon Time, & some 
Althea Arborea essence.' There are orders for ' new 
stone seats, 6 feet 9 inches long and 1 7 inches broad, 
and stone stairs in the garden,' and 14 feet of coping- 
stones for a balcony ; and the house is beginning to 
look so comfortable again, and so well furnished, that 
Edmund writes in the summer of 1657 : ' Of household July 17, 

1 f?CQ 

stuff I beleeve few gentlemen have so good or such 
great store.' Lady Hobart sends down from London 
some gilt leather and a piece of ' Pintado ' * for 5-s.Qd. 
which she thinks cheap, with ' fringe for the Pentado 
bed ' and some Dutch tiles. Dr. Denton, who is to 
receive some money for Sir Ralph, writes : ' The 
gooses feathers will quickly be pulled, therefore be 
sure you have a Pegasus ready bridled, sadled & 
plated, & your Jockey ready stript ; to carry the 
enclosed the next day & receave L'argent, but not to 
bury in Brick & mortar.' 

Sir Ralph's next project was to have a deer-park, 
and the negotiations begun with Lord Monson in the 
Fleet Prison for the purchase of deer stretched over 
several years. Doll Smith writes of some deer 
offered to her husband : ' From my Lord Gray's park Oct. 27, 
. . . but non but dows, & fawnes, and prickets 2 & 
prickets sisters . . . twenty shillins a peece for all 
thees, one with another, & that he must be tyed to 

1 An obsolete word, probably for a mottled stuff, whence the name 
Pintado for a guinea-fowl. Spanish pintado, from the verb pintar ; 
Latin pvng&re. 

* The buck is called a fawn the first year, a prickett the second 
(see Love's Labour's Lost, iv. 2). 


take twenty brace of them for else they will not 
bestow the making of a cops to take them ... if they 
be not honest they may send more fawnes than any 
other deare.' Cousin Smith, who is to divide them 
with Sir Ralph, says, ' Male Deere are my principle 
aymes.' Thomas Stafford writes about some ' of the 
wild beastes ' he is getting Sir Ralph from Mr. Dodes- 
worth, ' of Harrold Park, 4 or 5 miles beyond Owlney.' 

June 2, After an infinite amount of negotiation Lord 

Monson is ready to accept an offer for his herd of 
deer at Grafton Park, Northamptonshire ; Sir Ralph 
intends to buy them all, and then to divide them with 

Jan. i, Cousin Dick Winwood. The latter writes : ' Because 
you desire to know what price I can be contented to 
give, I doe as in all cases of purchase, ground myselfe 
uppon the markett, which is twentie shillings for 
every Deere above a Fawne . . . the purchaser being 
att all the charges of taking and bringing away, & 
thirtie shillings a piece to have them delivered to me 
att Quainton. I shall expect the full indevor of the 
Keepers to holpe me in the taking of them, and to 
paie my money when I receave them.' But even 
this transaction could not be carried through without 
political complications. Sir Ralph heard ' that 
Homan of Paulers Perry might doe good service in 
taking the deere' ; but ' because he had sworn as a 
witness against my Lord, he knew not whether my 
Lord would like him.' Lord Monson's agent gave per- 
mission to ' bring in whom we pleased.' Upon this Sir 
Ralph felt himself authorised to employ this person of 


heretical opinions to catch the deer. ' Deare Ralph,' March 2, 
wrote Dr. Denton, ' I rec d yours of 23, 25 and 28 
Feb. the enclosed from my Lord & cousin of Monson 
is worth all yours, I am commanded to send it you. 
He is in great wroath and vowes revenge, though not 
on you yett on your Agents : only he thinks you 
could not but know, that they that were imployed 
were his bitter enemies, & soe though not accused of 
misheefe yett of great indiscretion. Come off how 
you will, there's your charge Sir.' 

The deer themselves prove to be as delicate and 
as easily hurt as my Lord's feelings, and give occa- 
sion for many remonstrances and explanations on both 
sides. Two drown themselves in the park at Claydon, 
others sicken in the winter. ' It is an extraordinary 
trouble to me,' writes Holmes, the new steward, 
' because my master delighted in them so much, I 
know not what to doe in the busnes but feed them, 
as well as may be.' 

In the spring of 1660 'Cousin Win wood' is Feb. 11, 
negotiating for Sir Ralph the purchase of ' my Lord 
Whitlocke's deere,' which has also to be discreetly 
managed, for ' if it bee knowne at Henley that the deere 
are sould, niy Lord being now under a little cloud, 
they will endeavour to share with his Lordshipp, there- 
fore the sooner & the privater the businesse bee doun 
the better.' The keeper is to provide ' the Toyles ' 
and to assist in catching them ; ' Win wood lends the 
Buckstalles. As for Waggons,' writes Sir Ralph, ' I 
shall provide them ; if there is but (as you guesse) 


about 20, one Waggon and one cart will easily bring 
them, for the Load is nothing, my own wagon is very 
long and large, and I remember you brought home 
7 Brace at a time in yours.' Doctor Denton mocked 
at the deer and their leanness, and at all the trouble 
they gave ; he preferred horses any day. ' To up- 
braid your ill skill in pinguifyinge venison,' he 
writes, ' I eat yesterday a very fatt pasty of a Haunch, 
at Sir Orlando Bridgeman's.' But the deer were 
much admired in the country and it was Pen's 
opinion that her brother would ' sartanly mak a 
Princely Pallice of Claydon before he had don.' Sir 
Ralph was also buying swans to put into what he 
called ' my great navagable river.' 

The plots are on foot again in 1658 ; Dr. Denton 

March 25, writes : ' We had a most lusty search on tuesday night, 
and much securinge. There is J. Russell and Major 
Harlow both in the Tower. S r W m Waller hath 
been examined but dismissed on parole. I am like 
Ralph that winked and thought because he saw 
noebody that noebody saw him. I hope they have 
more feares and jealousies then -there is cause for.' 

March 31, ' Will H. V. never have more conscience than to 
sell Jades not worth 20/. for 301. I hope he will 
have the manners to give my colt at wilsons a visitt. 
I thinke any body may plate it and cuppe that will, 
for we are as secure now as full of feares a few daies 
agoe. The Swedish victory hath changed the whole 
scene. You may be pretty confident that a ParP is 
resolved on. ... Tell Henry that I much rejoice at 


the pleasant journey he had to Newmarkett and at 
the Indian returne he made for his adventure 
thither. ... I will give him bl. for old Chamber - 
layne to carry me to Ely in Easter weeke and at my 
returne he shall have her againe for 4/. 15s. Desborow 
is married to her mother, who married St. John's 
son.' ' Be pleased to understand that the Lieutent of April s, 

1 CCQ 

the Tower sent for S r W m Compton and Sir J 
Packinton [Sir Ralph's colleague for Aylesbury in 
the first days of the Long Parliament] who are now 
in the Tower where more are expected uppon the 
same Ace* which the town say was only because they 
had given security heretofore at St. James's. I am 
very confident we shall be quiett this sumer, Maugre 
all the Dons of Spaine. Its said they are humble 
Petitioners for peace. I am venturing 601. to Nova 
Scotia,' and William Gape adds that ' all thought 
of foreine invasion [has] blown over. . . . Molly doth 
not understand what mischiefe shee hath done you, 
but her name being up, her innocence will not excuse 
her, therefore shee wisheth shee had done somewhat, 
rather than be censured for .nothing.' 

William Smith, who had narrowly escaped in 
1657, was arrested now. He writes to Sir Ralph 
from his own house : ' Sir, on Wednesday here 
came souldiers with a warrant to search for and seize fP" 1 19 > 


horses and arms and to apprehend me, I desired to 
see the warrant, which was under Sir George Fleet - 
wood's hand. I was in Phisick but they would not 
lett me stay untill the next day, there were many in 


the warrant besides my selfe, but not you, but since 
I came home I hear that my Brother Alex. Denton 
should say they were att your house. Sir George 
Fleetwood came the next day to Allisbury, and told 
me he had a commission and instructions to im- 
prison all that were of the late King's party. I am 
confined to Mr. Kilby's house, and Mr. Stafford is 
my bedfellow. Sir John Burlaiy, Mr. Tyrringham, 
and many others are confined to other places, and 
some are put in the Gaole. We have liberty of the 
gardens and orchards of the house, and may goe into 
the towne or fields with a souldier, which I doe not 
trouble. Sir George gave me leave to come home 
this day with a keeper with mee, but I am just now 
returning againe to my old Quarters ; where I desire 
not to see you, and from whence when I shall be 
delivered or upon what termes I know not. God's 
will must bee donne, under which I am patient. If 
the souldiers have not been as yett att your house it 
is my opinion that you goe to London and stay there 
April 22, till this business is over.' ' It is said that the High 


Court of Justice will suddenly sitt to try those who 
are thought to be guilty, and till then I believe the 
goates and sheepe must keepe Company together.' 
Sir Ralph upon receipt of this news sent to enquire 
after Sir Justinian Isham, who when Royalists were 
April 27, to be ' clapped up ' was ever the first to suffer. ' Sir, 


I write now only to know both how and where you 
are*, and how you have beene, and are like to bee, for 
in these wretched times a man must bee alowed to 


bee a little inquisitive after his Freinde. For my 
part, I am yet at home, and soe I hope to bee unlesse 
some new and stricter orders ishew out. That very 
day the gentry were taken heere, I went to bury Sir 
Roger Burgoyne's Lady in Bedfordshire, little dream- 
inge of such a businesse. ... I presume the heate is 
already over, for in these parts wee have had none 
taken of late, which makes me almost confident that 
this time shall bee escaped by Sir, yours etc., R. V.' 

Sir Justinian replies : { Sir, With divers other April 27, 
Gentlemen of these 4 Counties (under M r [Major 
General] Butler) I am at present under guard at 
Northampton, nothing hath bin yet declared to us, 
nor Major Butler yet seene amongst us ; some par- 
ticular men have laboured their freedom & hope to 
obtain it from above, but I cannot yet say who have 
it. It hath bin intimated to some that some declara- 
tion or acknowledgement is expected, but I heare no 
farther of it, & tis probable a great part may remaine 
here for some tyme, where most of us are visited with 
extreame colds and many taken with vomiting and 
purging. I am glad 'tis yet so wel with you, 
endeavor to keepe your selfe soe, none have bin 
brought hither since the first taking, and Sir L. 
f Griffin hitherto excus'd by reason of his indisposition 
your old Lord Brudenel heere, Lord Camden, Lord 
Cullen intro multos alios.' 

Cromwell himself was full of trouble. Four months 
after the wedding celebrated with so much joy, his 
daughter, Lady Frances, was left a widow, while still 


in her teens ; and a few weeks after Lord Warwick 
had replied to the Protector's affectionate letter of 
condolence, he followed his grandson to the grave. 
The news reached Sir Ralph in one of Nancy 
April 2, Denton's childish scrawls. ' Sir I am forced to give 

1 fi*ift 

you this trobill becas my father was sent for to my 
Lady Wharton's unexpectedly istardy . . . and my 
mother is sick a bed . . . truly I thinck that there 
was never so sickly tim this mani years as it is now 
for truly all ouer house is sick, I think thar is not 5 
that is well ... all the newes I can wright you of 
is that my Lord of Worik is Ded & died on munday 
morning.' There is a hurried line from Dr. Denton 
at midnight, having just returned home : ' My Lady 
Wharton beinge dead, & soe is my Lord of War- 
wick, I can say no more, nor advise you what to 
doe, but to eat & sleepe in quiett. Stow is the 
fittest for Harry [Sir R. Temple being in favour with 
the Protector] Its thought many heads will fly, 
sound discoveries having been made.' 

Lady Hobart urged Sir Ralph to come up to 

town, where he was wanted to swear to his father's 

handwriting, but it was the eve of the day he always 

kept holy, the anniversary of Mary's death. ' It is 

May 9, impossible for me to be there soe soone,' he wrote, 


' for tomorrow I never stirre wherever I happen 
to bee.' 

The Protector was at the height of his glory 
that summer of 1658 ; a new parliament was to be 
summoned, and the Royalist plotters were at last 


thoroughly discouraged. Henry reports the fate of June 10, 
some of them : ' The good D r , & Sir Harry, are both 
executed & this day the high court doth sitt again to 
trey Woodcock and another knight, whose name I 
have forgott.' Though the Royalists mourned Dr. 
Hewitt as an 'excellent preacher' and ' holy man,' 
most people felt that he and Sir Henry Slingsby richly 
deserved their fate, and even they would probably 
have been spared but for a second plot which came to 
light while their trial was actually proceeding ; of those 
concerned in it Dr. Denton writes : ' 2 were executed July 8, 
yesterday & 1 reprieved when rope was about his 

Henry also gives us the other side of the picture 
in the honour paid to Cromwell by foreign Powers. 
* On tuesday last here arrived a parson of greate Jne n, 
honor, whose name at present I have forgot [the 
Due de Crequi] with a complement from the kinge of 
france to the Protector, & for the honor of our nation 
like to be nobley entertained by his Highness, for I 
dare say no imbassador whatsoever had soe greate an 
alowance as this courtier ; 200/. a day for his table 
and other expenses, & logd at Brookhouse.' 

Henry keeps up his racehorses, and the Doctor 
is not averse to a little quiet gambling. ' Harry July 14, 
and I have had this day a smart bout at Tables 
for colt Peterborough & my dun mare that is at 
Stow ; & he gott but 2 games of the 21. Soe I 
have won y e mare though happily in y c sense I may 
loose by the match. . . . 100000 (I can allow you 



cyphers enow) thanks for Chesnut it is best to send 
her on Satterday [to Stowe] least Sir Rich : should be 
gone to the Assizes on Munday. ... If my coach 
horses be out of tune, Kate will scold me into an 
Augure hole. Mai & Will are for Cheshire [Madcap 
has volunteered to go with them and to take Claydon 
on her way home], Kate is for Surrey & Wm. D. 
must be left all alone.' 

Before the family party broke up Kate was to 
have a dinner party, and there was a private joke be- 
tween Sir Ralph and the Doctor about a savoury horse- 
pasty made at Claydon, the composition of which was 
to be kept a profound secret. ' Your precious clouted 
boxe, that brought the precious pye,' has duly come, 
but Dalton doubts that ' our London dames will be 
soe queazy stomackt as not to touch y e colt, but I 
have kept my councill hitherto.' Two days later he 
reports : ' Cooke Laurence's owne privy kitchen had 
noe such dish as colt pye, but noebody kiiowes what 
they have eaten as yett, noe nor Harry, nor dare not 
tell because Lady Longavile was at the feast. ... I 
pray remember to get some body to back the colt as 
soone as may be, for I am like to have noe other for 
my owne saddle this summer.' He has journeys in 
prospect to ' Pittsberry, Audley Inn, & perhaps to 
Cambridge.' The horses are reported to be in poor 
condition, and the Doctor writes in comical de- 
spair, addressing the letter to his horses and their 
July 22, h os t : ' For his noble ffrends Don Diego, Hipporio, 


Radulpho Claydono.' 


1 Base, abominable, base newes indeed. I doubt 
my jades are growne as cunninge as theire Dame, I 
might say, as their D r ; loath very loath to goe from 
soe good quarters ; that horses should goe 3 or 4 
yeares togeather in coach & then jade it. It putts 
me beyond all patience, & soe confounds all my 
summer projects and progresses, that I am in a wood, 
& know not which way to turne my selfe. More 
horses I like not to buy, haveing enough already. & 
to have none Kate will not be pleased.' 

Wickedness does not go for ever unrewarded. Doll 
Smith and her mother planned a dinner at Ratcliffe, 
at which there was much ' good company,' on pur- 
pose to give the Doctor 'a vengeance pasty' in return 
for ' colt pye.' 

The New Disease is rife again in the autumn of 
1658. ' Lady Fiennes cannot recover,' Dr. Denton 
writes ; ' I have given her 2 vomitts but it profitts 
little. I shall have a wonderfull losse in her, sed fiat 
voluntas Dei.' The precious colt and ' his keeper ' 
are also ill at Claydon. The Doctor finds his inateria 
raedica within the limits of the old court yard ; the 
colt is ordered ' a groundsel purge,' and the man ' a 
stone crop vomitt ' in repeated doses. 

If the physician prescribed for horses, there was 
' a Horse- Smithe ' at Edmonton ready to do as much 
for 'human mortals.' Mr. Wakefield recounts apolo- 
getically, and not very clearly, how he had made use 
of him : ' I have had my two youngest Children, 4 Oct. 20, 
Maydes & 2 men, downe at a tyme of this new 

E E 2 


Disease, & yett through God's mercy are all recovered 
againe. (And now my other two men have gotten 
Agues) though I impute it under God, to a meanes 
that some people would have scrupled to have made 
use of his Phisicke ; Hee being by profession a 
Horse-Smithe, and keepes a shoppe in our Towne. 
Butt hee having practised upon many others about 
us, before we made use of him, the successe his 
Phisicke hath had in our Family, hath much 
encreased his fame, and really I thinke nott without 
desart ; for he gives you as rationall an Accompte for 
what hee doth, as any Phisitian that I ever yett 
mette withall. What I write is nott to derogate 
from the honour due to many Phisitians of quallity 
[pace Dr. Denton], but in the country, such cannott 
spend any tyme with us ; and the trouble of sending 
soe farre too & againe, besides often tymes the mis- 
takes and miscarriages of thinges, forces us to doe 
that which if we were in London, we should hardly 
venture upon.' 

At Clay don Mrs. Westerholt kept various potent 
mixtures going, to be administered as the Doctor 
wrote her word. He refers admiringly to that 
' purginge drinke as she made for the maids & the 
upholsterer,' and suggests that some burdock seeds 
or root might be added to it with advantage. The 
upholsterer, as he worked in the house, was admitted 
to share the household privileges. Did he abuse the 
housekeeper's kindness and help himself too greedily ? 
We know not ; we only hear that the upholsterer is 


like ' to make a dye of it,' but then, it is added, ' he 
was always a delicate man.' 

In the great world outside Cromwell was busier x 

than ever, the government of the country depended 
upon his personal initiative, and his powerful mind 
was full of schemes for reform at home, and fresh 
triumphs for the Protestant cause abroad. Then Lady 
Claypole, his daughter, fell ill, and the Protector 
watched by her sick-bed in an agony of sorrow. She 
died on the 6th of August; by the end of the month 
he was himself struck down. No alarm was felt at first, 
and Cromwell had an intense belief that he would 
recover. While the life-and-death struggle was going 
on in the sick- chamber, a terrific storm shook all 
the south of England, and the Royalists said that the 
Devil had come to fetch his own. On the anniversary Sept. 3, 

J 1658 

of Dunbar and Worcester, praying for those that hated 
him, and longing, if it might be, to be yet ' farther 
serviceable to God and His people,' Oliver Cromwell 
passed away. 

The quiet chit-chat of the family letters continues 
with no allusion to this event of supreme importance. 
Sir Ralph is expected at Croweshall, and Doll 
Leeke watches for the coach : ' I am gron lean 
with walking to meat you, & freting as I came back 
. . . if I thought you cared for it, I could be angry.' 
Jack at school was spending that very September 
afternoon in painfully composing a Latin letter to his 
father, with no reference at all to the absorbing topic 
that was being discussed in the street outside. We 


About only hear later on from Lady Hobart : ' My Lord 

less protector's body was Bered last night at one o'clock 

very privittly, & tis thought that will be [no] show 

at tall : the army dou bluster a letill : god send us 

pes for I dred a combuston.' 

The expectation that there would be ' no show ' 
was emphatically falsified ; there was a public funeral, 
magnificent and costly beyond precedent. The coifin 
lay for more than six weeks ' in open state ' in 
Somerset House, and there was a wax effigy of 
Cromwell standing robed in crimson (or, according to 
another account, in black) velvet, a sceptre in his 
NOV. 11, hand and a crown on his head. ' "We are all a whist, 1 


no newes stirring,' writes Sir Roger Burgoyne, ' but 
that the old Protector is now gott upon his leggs 
againe in Sumersett House, but when he shall be 
translated to the rest of the Gods at Westminster I 
cannot tell. Pray, doe you come and see.' 

' It is supposed that the great funeral will be about 
All Saints,' writes another contemporary. 'Henry the 
Seventh's Chapel is being cleansed.' But though Crom- 
well died on the 3rd of September the funeral was not 
till the 23rd of November, the oppressive ceremonial 
being rendered still more hollow by persistent reports 
of a secret burial. Some believed that this had taken 
place immediately after death, others that the corpse 
had been hastily buried a week before the funeral 

1 The winds, with wonder whist, 
Smoothly the waters kiss'd. 

Milton, Ode on the Nativity. 


upon an alarm that the discontented soldiers meant 
to seize it as security for their arrears. Evelyn 
watched the ' superb ' procession pass with the 
' imperial banners, atchiements, heralds . . . guards, 
soldiers, & innumerable mourners . . . but,' he adds, 
'it was the joyfullest fimerall 1 ever saw, for there 
were none that cried but dogs, which the soldiers 
hooted away with a barbarous noise, drinking, &; 
taking tobacco in the streets as they went.' 

Though Evelyn looked on with hostile eyes, it 
was doubtless true that the procession evoked no 
reverent sympathy from the crowd. The profound 
lull that had followed the shock of the Protector's 
death, was already giving way to intrigues and dis- 
contents. The French Ambassador, also an eyewitness, 
gives us a vivid picture of the close of this dismal 
pageant. The starting of the procession was long de- 
layed by altercations in the Corps Diplomatique about 
precedence. The service was to have taken place 
by daylight ; but this delay not having been foreseen, 
darkness fell upon the short November afternoon. 
1 There was not a single candle in Westminster Abbey,' 
M. de Bordeaux writes, ' to give light to the company, 
and conduct the hearse into a sort of " Chapelle 
Ardente," which had been prepared ; there were con- 
sequently neither prayers, nor sermon, nor funeral 
oration, and after the trumpets had sounded for a short 
time, every one withdrew in no particular order.' * 

1 Monsieur de Bordeaux to Mazarin (see Guizot's Richard Cromu-eU, 
i. p. 268). 


In the gloom of that winter afternoon the Westmin- 
ster boys were marshalled to witness the ceremony. 
Less than ten years before they had voluntarily 
gathered themselves together to pray for King 
Charles as he was led to the scaffold, and all the 
Puritan governors, and the Presbyterian and Inde- 
pendent preachers in the Abbey, had been unable 

Taken from CromirM's bier. 

to extinguish the chivalrous loyalty of Westminster 
School. The boys were now stirred to speechless 
indignation by the various emblems of sovereignty 
they saw displayed in Cromwell's honour, and Robert 
Uvedale, whose family had been conspicuous for 
services rendered to the fallen dynasty, sprang for- 
ward through the legs of the guard, snatched from 
the bier the little satin banner known as the Majesty 


Scutcheon, darted back again, and before anyone 
could recover from the shock of the surprise was lost 
in the crowd of his schoolfellows. It would have 
been highly inexpedient at such a moment to arrest 
and search the Westminster boys ; so the bit of 
crumpled white satin remained in Robert Uvedale's 
pocket, to be proudly displayed in after years, and 
preserved as an heirloom in his family. 

This curious little bit of wreckage that has drifted 
down to us from the storms of the seventeenth century 
has found a safe harbour in the dignified seclusion of 
the Bursar's Room at Lincoln College, Oxford. Its 
possessor, the Rev. Washbourne West, is the lineal 
descendant of Robert Uvedale, and the name of every 
member of the family in whose keeping the relic has 
been is known to him. It is owing to Mr. West's 
kindness that the story has been told here, and the 
Majesty Scutcheon reproduced. The boy himself, a 
great-nephew of Sir William Uvedale, Sir Edmund's 
old friend, went on to Trinity College, Cambridge, 
where in later years he was actually elected to a 
Fellowship in preference to Sir Isaac Newton. Behind 
the frame that enshrines the scutcheon is a long 
inscription, in Robert Uvedale's hand, beginning thus: 
' Hoc Insigne raptum est a feretro tyranni Olivarii 
Cromwelli, cum effigies ejus cerea, regali cultu ornata, 
in aedibus Sancti Petri apud Westmonasterienses mag- 
nifice se ostentabat,' &c. 

The ' quiet bones ' of the poorest men and women 
who fell victims to the epidemic at Clay don were at 


least permitted ' among familiar names to rest, and 
in the places of their youth ' ; but to the great man 
who had played so large a part in England's history 
this common privilege of humanity was denied. The 
body laid in the Abbey vaults with such exaggerated 
pomp of ceremonial was ere long to be dug up again 
by the jackals of the Restoration, in order that every 
insult might be heaped upon it that petty malignity 
could devise. 

aftfnm rr :, 

y , y y / 

- Fr&rnrtaLr> to c VlCMausu/r, 

,1 p,iintniij vv (. tin C)/>nifr ti/-~d tlcnifii. 




How small of all that human hearts endure 

That part which laws or kings can cause or cure. GOLDSMITH. 

SIK RALPH'S sisters and lady friends were all, with 
one exception, Royalists ; Constitutional Freedom was 
a cause for men to defend ; Charles Stuart was a 
person for women to love and pity. The exception 
was of course Eleanor, Countess of Warwick ; she 
had grasped from the first the importance of the 
issues, and had followed with enthusiasm every phase 
of the struggle. She was the recognised chaperone 
of the young Commonwealth whom other great 
ladies snubbed as a low-born and presuming crea- 
ture. During the Protectorate she figured as almost 
our only Peeress, as well as being latterly step- 
mother-in-law to the Protector's daughter. But 
when, within a few months, Lord Warwick died, and 
Cromwell's family were so completely swept into 
oblivion as never again to influence English history, 
the widowed Countess was carried along by the tide, 
and Sir Ralph was soon called upon to arrange 


the settlements for her fourth marriage with the Earl 
of Manchester, who also wedded for the fourth time. 

Edward Montagu, Earl of Manchester, had always 
been too lukewarm a partisan to satisfy Cromwell, 
and was shortly to welcome the incoming dynasty. 
Aunt Isham regrets that the Countess's mature 
charms and triple jointure were not bestowed on Sir 
Ralph himself, and writes, with a sly allusion to 
Mrs. Aris's wedding : ' I could wish that you was 
maried to the widdoe Warwick, ether a bed or up, so 
you had her anyhow.' 

Sir Ralph and Mr. John Gary of Ditchley ' are 
careful to secure that Revenues, Rents, plate, jewels, 
goods & chattels belonging to the said Countesse,' 
shall ' continue to be in her sole & personal disposal.' 
Splendid dress and furniture were coming once more 
into fashion in the latter years of Oliver's rule. 
Lady Warwick has ' a faire knot of gold, enamelled 
with Tulipps set with Diamonds ' ; 'a greate round 
Jewell of gold, set round with Rowes of diamond, & 
one great diamond in the middle ' ; ' Ropes of Pearle,' 
a fan-handle of emeralds and diamonds, another fan 
with rubies ; ' a sweet bag embroidered with pearles,' 
and ' sixteen dozen of buttons enamelled with black 
with a diamond in every button ' probably the very 
ones shown in her portrait at Ditchley. 

One set of her tapestry hangings represents the 
four seasons, another in eight pieces ' a designe of 
flower-potts,' and there is ' a fine suite of landscape 
hangings with pillars, of 155f Flemish ells,' in five 


pieces. For the withdrawing- rooms are two complete 
' suites,' one of ' blue wrought velvet, fringed with 
blue' ; another in ' Crimson figured satten, with silk 
fringe & gilt nailes, 4 Crimson wrought window 
Curtaines lined with Crimson China Satten, & 1 
greate Crimson velvet Cabin ett ' ; each suite has 
' chaires, stooles & carpet to match.' The bedrooms 
are furnished with equal splendour. We hear of a 
' Crimson figured satten Bed, trimmed with Im- 
broidered buttons and loopes, with Carpet, Chaires & 
stooles suteable' ; ' 2 little China Carpets with coloured 
silkes & gold ' ; ' one scarlet cloth bed lined with 
Satten, a Counterpane of Satten trimmed with gold 
& silver ffringe & a rich gold & silver iFringe about 
the vallins ' ; another room is upholstered in ' Carna- 
tion quilted satin,' and a fourth in ' greene cloth, with 
Isabella & greene silk lace fringes, lined with Isabella 
taffety, and sheetes edged with purle.' Her widow's 
bed is of fine black embroidery, with ' a sheete 
wrought with black silke shaddowed,' with black 
chairs, stools, and carpet to match. We also hear of 
gilt leather, and of carpets from Turkey and Persia. 

When we pass to any family less sumptuously 
lodged than that of the great Presbyterian Earl, the 
women are as little able to vie with Lady Warwick 
in upholstery as in political intelligence and influence. 
Busy wives and mothers knew little and cared less 
about the experiments in government the country 
was carrying on, but home duties never ceased to 
claim their heads and hearts. Children fell sick and 


must be nursed ; christenings, weddings, and funerals 
claimed their pious household rites, and rare indeed 
was the home in which the unsettled times had not 
brought a burden of painful retrenchment on its 
mistress. Law suits abounded, and quarrels engen- 
dered by the Civil War blazed up by the fireside as 
vehemently as those of Presbyterians, army officers, 
and Levellers in the world without. 

John and Penelope Denton were still wrangling 
with his mother and his many creditors, and when 
he was not in Oxford gaol, ' Pen's bruit of a 
husband,' as 'Doctor' called him, was apt 'to lay her 
at his feet ' ; ' It is not long since that upon a slit 
occasion, he did cik me about the house.' They 
came to Clay don, but could never persuade Sir Ralph 
to visit them, though Pen drank water to keep her 
ale for him, and took his constant denials very ill. 

Peg Elmes's ' disordered spleene,' and the im- 
perious temper that distinguished her and her hus- 
band alike, led them in 1657 to discuss the terms 
of a separation. Sir Thomas thinks that ' to part in 
Love . . . may increase it ... donn in a way that 
nobody may know, certainly guess they will, lout know 
they need not.' Peg's desire to detail her symp- 
toms to every new doctor she heard of was a ' charge- 
able diversion,' and Sir Thomas's notions of a proper 
allowance were most niggardly. Peg wished to live 
with Cary, and her sister was ready to welcome her 
heartily, ' if we can agree upon tarmes of diet & 
other conveniences which shee must have. Bot 


from an eldar brother's tabill & the command of a 
hous, & a coach & 4 horsis to an inconsiderabill 
younger brother, & a father of many children & a 
littell hous, it will be a great fall.' Margaret had 
fed so long on the ' stalled ox and hatred therewith ' 
that she silenced Gary's scruples, but she herself 
proved a troublesome addition to the ' dinner of 
herbs' at Preshaw. To prepare for the trials of a 
small establishment she desires her brother to order 
' a plain sillvor woch ... as good a goeing one as 
I coulde, for I have it merely to know how the time 
goes away, & att Preshaw I am sertan, the nevor 
have ather clock or woch.' She is to pay 5*. a cwt. 
for the transport of her goods from London to 
Hampshire, and is sending them off, but being very 
unwell she lingers in the neighbourhood of physicians. 
Sir Ralph fears her ' too greate love to London ' may 
be misconstrued ' by Norton . . . and if you Falter 
with your friendes at Preshaw, perhapps theire inindes 
may alter too, and then I know not where you will 
finde soe fit, soe good and soe honorable a retiring 
place. By this time I know you are more then a 
little angry.' 

Sir Ralph was not mistaken. Peg's displeasure August, 


fills two folio sheets : ' I may justly make yous of the 
owlde fraise & say you tooke me up be foare I was 
downe . . . sertenly brother you cannot thincke as I 
stay heare now out of love to the plaise, when theare 
is hardly a cretur in it that I know, but if theare ware, 
I hope I have nevor caryed myselfe soe . . . but that 


I may stay in any plaise ... as I take the being 1 
parted from my husband as no wayes to my honer soe 
I take it for noe sich great dishoner as to be tied to 
live in obscurity all my dayes.' Sir Ralph calls her 'as 
captious a sister as she has been a wife,' and bids her 
' steere what corse you please, you have now made 
it very indifferent to your Brother Verney.' Peg 
Sept. 23, retorts, but at this point Gary and the Doctor insist 
that there shall be peace : ' Your D r & you must 
. not thinke to tell every body of theire faults and goe 
untold yourselves,' he writes, ' you, if theire father 
had been alive, durst not use your sisters soe slightly 
& pick quarrels . . . for feare they should be a 
burden to you. ... I know noe reason why we 
should be out of the common lot of all men. Christe 
himselfe had his share herein, he was a Samaritan & 
had a Divell, & why should we speed better than our 

Sir Ralph once more took the Doctor's reproof 
in good part, and soon busied himself again in 
Margaret's interest. Before .the fretful invalid settles 
at Preshaw, we may glance back at the family story 
of the Stewkeleys during the two preceding years. 

There had been a sad outbreak of small-pox there 
in 1656 ; Gary had sent a note to a neighbour's 
house not knowing they had it, and the coachman 
brought back the infection. All the children and 


step-children sickened ' of this disease, as loathsome 
as dangerous ' ' we ware all one among another, 
bot what fled.' The little ones should have been 


sent out of the house, but Gary's maid was away on 
a holiday, and ' infints are not essely disposed on.' 
Cary ' never went to bed in seven nights together 
besides many halfe nights ' ; she kept up while the 
children were in danger and then broke down utterly, 
whether ' from long woching,' as the Doctor said, 
or from ' a sorfet of eating pigg,' as she herself 
surmised, Mr. Stewkeley could not decide. He had 
in vain preached prudence, and could only hope ' that 
the seasonable advertisement of a brother may make 
deeper Impressions then of a Husband in doing of 
what many of us need noe remembrancer to love 
ourselves. . . . As she lives in her children more 
then in herself, so I wish the result of her maternall 
care would center in the preservation of herself.' 
Peg Gardiner narrowly escaped total blindness and 
was * much worne out,' she ' is to keep on a mask 
& searcloths this winter.' Ursula, who refused to 
do the same, is deeply pitted. 

Cary hopes to be free from infection by Christmas 
' set the norsary aside, ther is no danger, I have 
ared all plasis so well.' But prudence was thrown 
to the winds and the house filled with guests on the 
happy occasion of the wedding of a step-daughter in 

November. ' Joy is comino* into our house againe, NOV. 27, 

for this day Page & Jane is marryed, & I wish more 

may follow ... I am going to gine in Merth with 
the rest of our Company.' Ursula, with her deeply 
scarred face, and Peg with her mask and searcloth, 
were not very eligible bridesmaids. Gary's wish that 



' more may follow ' is explained by Ursula's conduct, 
who questioned her step-mother's authority on other 
points besides the care of her health and complexion. 

June?, A daughter, Penelope, was born the next summer, 
Gary's third child by John Stewkeley. 

In the spring of 1658 Gary is preparing for the 
wedding of another step -daughter, Anne, three years 
older than Ursula, and much more amiable. The 
snow is still deep in Hampshire in February and 

Feb. 17, nas l a i n long;. ' The flock hath eat nothing but 


straw this 6 weekes, nethar can ther sarvant help it 
for hay he had none, and if hee byes it hee must pay 
4 pound a tonn and tis feared it will destroy the 
flock, bot look on the least harme it can doe them 
and ther woll must fall short, and bee an ill case to 
be sold off at mickellmas nethar can they plow for 
barley.' She is nevertheless full of her hospitable 
preparations : ' For now I can acquant you that 
nancy is to be marryed to one Mr. Grove a wellshe 
gentelman of near 3 hondred a yeare in present 
possestion, he is young and hancome and, I think, 
very desarving every way, her banns are once asked, 
bot shee is not to be inarryed till thursday senet 
aftar yesterday, and your company is so ernestly 
desiared that wee resolve to give you this timely 
notis. You will meat heare S r John Cotton and his 
lady with some relations of his, bot tis only near 
kindred so wee acount it privat. Pray let not the 
smallnesse of our house disharten you, for I shall 
only troble you in haveing your sonn loay with you, 


which I hope you will bare with, in a great bed.' 
Sir Ralph hopes to come : ' But why do you Feb. 19, 
Tantalize the poore young creature & make her 
keepe soe strict a Lent. I love not Fish & were 
she of my diet & humour (or perhaps of yours) 
ceatainly she might well account it a very greate 
severity.' Gary's household compilations increase ; 
she has extended her hospitality to Betty, though 
' trobled with the specktikill of a discontented 
Sister ' ; Mr. Stewkeley's elder brother pays them 
long visits and must be humoured, lest he leave his 
money elsewhere ; Daughter Grove has returned in 
a state when ' she is not to be crossed in anything ' 
and now Peg Elmes is expected. 

Betty is wild to go off to London ' Hid Parck 
and the cheries ther is veri plesant to me.' Gary is 
always pleading for her with Sir Ralph ' I cannot 
bot pety her when I consider the world hath frouned 
uppon her, in that she cannot regain her own, though 
tis A calamyty thousands have soffared with her . . . 
her misfortune was not to be bred under parents, so 
she was spoyled in her education by sarvants . . . 
we must bare with her the more.' ' Truly Sister,' 
Sir Ralph replies, ' if you yourselfe were of such a 
humour, that you should sit wishing for death & 
sigh & sobb & pout yourselfe into a sicknesse, could 
you then with any confidence expect a more then 
common comiseration ? . . . I must confesse your 
proportion of good nature doth very farre exceed my 
owne, for had I a sister in my house (nay a Wife) 

F F 2 


that would have beene noe better pleased, my stock 
of kindnesse & patience would have been soe wholly 
spent, that shee could not have been neare soe long 
suffered to inhabit there with me.' 

When Peg was ill at Preshaw, ' Sis Betty,' to do 

her justice, ' did as much as any sarvant for her.' 

Oct. 22, p e o- had been l even to death's dore, to coldness & 

1658 t ' 

stiffness these 20 daies ' ; her husband was ' in great 
hopes of her death,' and Aunt Isham considered that 
' she would be Little Lamented, the more is hir 
misery.' But Death himself was in no hurry to 
possess Peg Elmes, and she managed to get back to 
town leaving her kind hosts much dissatisfied with 
the 20 she had left to defray the heavy expenses of 
Jan. 4, her long illness. ' Truly I thought Pegff would a delt 


hansomber with me,' Gary writes, ' bot I will try my 
wits to make the best of it to my husband ... as 
we came together in love so wee will part ; bot I 
dare boldly say shee will not be so obsarved in any 
Jan. 11, family againe in hast nor so waighted on.' ' Peg 
thinks she can live cheaper in London then hear . . . 
bot I have cast it up 80 a year it will cost her, 
besids wine & breckfasting & washing & candle & 
bear ; & for the coach 5 a yeare, & hear she had 
two sarvants & thar will have bot one, & for fuell 
you may ges the diferanc. . . . The D r heare thinks, 
bot shee is angry to heare him ... if shee taks not 
much physick shee will be the better . . . all this is 
tresone.' ' I am shur a door did not shot hard in my 
hous bot it disordered her, though now it semes the 


noys of musick & so much company can be indured ; 

& heare she did punctually take something every '2 

howars or elc shee was faint. If Jornes can make 

one gaine so much stringth ... I think it ware a 

good way for me to torn travelar : bot I thang God 

for the remove for I feind much ease to my mind & 

to my body sine she went away.' ' Tis well Pegg Feb. u, 

could stay so long out of her chamber,' Gary writes 

again, ' hear was not a window cortains undrane & 

shee sat in a clos wickkar char, with a rogg rapt 

all about her, & a choshen under her feet besids.' 

' Doctors' Fines will be her constant chamber fol- April 19, 

lowars. Truly D r Are & D r Care is my chef physis- 

tions, though I am fain to have a more chargabill 

D r many times, bot ther is one D l Yerney, would 

due as great a cuare on mee as the othar three.' 

Of Sir Ralph's remaining sister, Mary Lloyd, 
there are few memorials during these years, except 
'her piteous begging letters ' I have not a gowiie 
that will hange on my Bake, it is so olde that as I 
mende it in one place, it teares out in a nother, so 
that I am clothed with rages ... & all most nacked.' 
Robert Lloyd seems to have settled in Wales ' for 
there all things are cheaper.' Their son Humphrey 
w r as born in June 1657 ; in 1659 Dr. Denton and 
Mr. Gape are ' mediating with Sir Ralph.' to grant 
his sister a cow ; and Mary writes ' Pray dericthe 
your letters for to be lefte att Mrs. Magdalen Lloyd's 
shoope in Wrixham for mee.' 

Sir Ralph had set his heart upon a family gather- 


ing in the autumn of 1659. It was six years since 
Gary Gardiner had been at Claydon ; it was difficult 
for her to travel either with or without her large 
party, but she will come ' if general trebles befall us 
not/ Sir Ralph urges Aunt Sherard to join them : 
Aug. 10, ' Tis but a stepp to Claydon & my Coach shall 
attend your daughters and my Cozen Fust, when & 
where you please to command it, & for theire sakes I 
shall double my endeavour to save my Horses from the 
soldiers who at this hower doe s war me at Brickill, 
Stratford, Alisbury, & in some little villages neare 
me, & I heare are unruly enough in all places, but 
these only pass towards Cheshire, and make no stay 
in these parts, therfore you need not feare them. 
The first week in September (if Times are quiet) my 
Sister Gardner brings Preshaw heather ; Sister Elmes 
Sister Denton and Brother Harry meet her heere ; in 
the interim Sister Elmes visits Ratcliffe, and Harry, 
Stowe, because tis a more confiding Place then Clay-' 
don. Doubt not want of Lodging for we Virgins 
are resolved to Ligg l alltogeather. On Mounday 
there was about a Thousand Foot marched through 
my grounds about halfe a mile off, & on Tuesday 
some 5 hundred horse & Dragoons with theire Ord- 
nance & 9 wagons of Ammunition & I was soe very 
a cloune as not to invite them to my house : but to 

1 Ligg, to lie down : 

And they were bidden for to slepe 
Liggende upon the bed aloft. 

GOWER, HalliwelVs Diet. 


bee more searious, God be thanked I did not suffer 
by them. I am informed that greater numbers of 
horse & foot then wee have yet seene are to passe 
very suddenly ; all immaginable haste is made to 
reduce Chesheire, soe that I hope they will finde no 
leasure to bee injurious to me.' John Stewkeley 
returns thanks, from ' Pickadilly,' for the invitation. 
' The late noysis of riesings puts mee in a fear/ Gary Aug. 16, 
writes later. ' that I have no fortune to see Claydon, 
the plas I do much long to be at ; for if distorbances 
incres I would not be so uncevell to trobell your 
house, knowing strangers are unseasonabill at souch 

Sister Betty came with the Gardiners, Mun and 
Jack were at home, and so complete was the gather- 
ing that there is not a single family letter written to 
Sir Ralph during that month of September. It cer- 
tainly required some courage on his part to receive 
his four sisters ; they usually discovered in their old 
home some piece of furniture or linen which they 
claimed as a right under their mother's will, or 
begged as a favour. This time Pen and Peg took a 
fancy to the same chair, and called each other hard 
names about it ; Pen considered that Peg's self-will 
' hath grone up with her from her cradell ; all 
together she cannot make her great brags, her one 

will, hether two, hath maide her unfortinate 

I must follow Sister Gardiner's good humer and 
forget her ill humer to us both.' 

Gary writes to her brother, on the way home, 


Oct. 21, ' At the bare ' at Reading : ' In souch paper as the 
Inne affords me, I cannot but let you know wee are 
safely arived at Reding before sunset, and your 
horsis have performed ther joriiey very well. I ac- 
knowledg the gretest of thanks is due to you though 
I cannot expres it to you. I know by this time you 
have the hapy chang of your quiet which you could 
not have in souch a rout. My sarves to all your 
good company and till them I would have them 
pounc the pety-coat still and charg Hary to frighten 
Ante I sham with his ugly faces elc I shall take it 

Penelope and her husband stayed two months at 
Claydon, and John Stewkeley thus describes their 

NOV. 3, return journey : ' The Squier had a sad martch to 
London : hee had a great contest with Pen for a 
place in the coach, but Scartlett was preferd before 
him : hee rode as near the coach as if his horse had 
been tied to it, and was wett to the skin before hee 
came halfway.' 

We can see Sir Ralph's carriages and the party 
of riders clattering into the market-palce at Ayles- 
bury, all splashed and dripping after fourteen miles 
of heavy November roads ; we hear the hard words 
and hard blows exchanged as the passengers struggle 
for places in the public coach ; while the Claydon 
servants, the post-boys and ostlers are grinning to 
see Squire Denton foiled in his efforts to push 
away his wife, in order to secure an inside seat for 


Peg Elmes describes the ' great disorder ' the 
1 Squier ' was put into, ' for he was turned a horse- 
back in all the wett . . . soe he had noe good luck 
after all his long feasting.' 

No wonder that his ill-humour lasted beyond the 
journey ; ' his black eye,' writes Brother Stewkeley, 
' hath made him very nice of admitting any to see 
him since hee came up ; hee is scarce in charity yet 
with his playfellows, but time will doe it.' 

Anne Hobart, staying with Daughter Smith at 
Ratcliffe, and looking back upon Claydon hospitali- 
ties, writes to Sir Ralph : ' I pety you from my 
hart, that you have so much compeny, but when I 
conseder how near and dear they ar all to you it tis 
a recreaton, espeshally when it corns but sildom.' 

Betty Yerney returned with the Stewkeleys to Pre- 
shaw where she relapsed into sad fits of grumbling ; 
but it is impossible not to sympathise with the poor 
orphan girl, who had missed all the petting and spoil- 
ing that were her due as the youngest of a large family, 
or to wonder that she envied Ursula Stewkeley. 
whose caprice and wilfulness were viewed at home 
with an indulgence that Betty had never known. 
* She holds her peace,' we are told, after a good 
scolding from Gary, ' only repeats often, how happy 
Ury is to have a father and uncill which dus all they 
can to help her to live in pleshur.' 




O ! what a hurly-burly is there made. 


OLIVER CROMWELL is dead and gone, hut his High- 
ness Richard, the Lord Protector, rules in his stead. 
There is a pause of silence and expectation. For a 
moment it seems as if the good ship of State would 
hold steadily on her course, even though the strong 
hand has relaxed its grip of the helm, and left her 
amidst gathering clouds to a feeble and inexperienced 
pilot. Dry den, in his heroic stanzas to Oliver's 
memory, could write with general acceptance 

No civil broils have since his death arose, 

But faction now by habit does obey ; 
And wars have that respect for his repose 

As winds for halcyons when they breed at 'sea. 

But there are mutterings of the coming storm 
when Dr. Denton reports, in October 1658 : ' The 
souldiers are not so quiett as I could wish, they would 
fayne a generall distinct from the Protector.' 

In marked contrast to the preceding years, the 


Verney letters are full of references to the state of 
the country during Richard Cromwell's protectorate, 
and the confusion that followed it, public anxieties 
once more taking precedence of private interests. 
Sir Ralph was eagerly watching every move on the 
board, but he was not too busy to write a charming 
letter to the ladies at Croweshall when Doll was 
planning a visit to town. ' Deare Cozen, I would not NOV. w, 


interrupt your London pleasures at your very first 
coming . . . but Cozen is it possible you should 
take a journey of 4 score miles in this season, 
through such wayes & Waters, to visit London, & 
then stay but 8 or 10 dayes there ? it cannot bee, 
for though almost all the World is changed yet 
you are still the same D: L: that dwelt at Claydon, 
& canot bee guilty of such a crime soe highly pre- 
juditiall to all your Friendes, kindred, & acquaint- 
ance, & soe absolutly contrary to your owne knowne 
Humour, & affections too ; this were to forget your 
owne People, & your Fathers house indeed, if you 
lie under such a vow, tis better broke then kept. I 
must confesse when my Lady Gaudy is at Crowes- 
hall, the seate is good & pleasant, & that old House 
(in my conceit) excells the Louvre, & Escuriall ; 
were her Ladishipp here, this House would doe soe 
too : her presence is able to consecrate all places 
where she comes ; but I presume she is still at 
Hewzon, with her beloved sonne & daughter, de- 
lighting herselfe in her new acquired Title of a 
Grandmother, therefore I doubt not but on second 


thoughts you will resolve to keepe your Christmas 
with my cozen your sister, & thereby allow both 
time & oppertunities to bee attended often by Deare 
Cozen Yours etc.' 

Dec. 2, ' I hope well of peace,' the Doctor writes, ' the 

next par? will tell you more which is now the dis- 
course of the towne againe.' 

Mr. Butterfield, catching something of the general 
excitement, is taking voters to the election at 
Buckingham in January 1659. 'I intend with God's 
leave if the wether be such as I may safely venture 
abroade, to see the Knights chosen on Wednesday, 
& to take such as I can get to goe along with mee ; 
most on this side will be for those two gent : but 
here is talke as though the Anabaptist party were 
like to carry it on the other side.' Sir Eichard 
Temple was elected for Buckingham with Francis 
Ingoldsby, Esquire. Sir Roger Burgoyne did not 
stand, and his seat for Warwick was filled by Fulke 
Lucy of Charlecote. Odd little bits of gossip have 

Feb. 21, survived. ' Sir H. Wroath in a drunken fit (as 


I doubt),' writes the Doctor, ' affronted Packer 
[M.P. for Wallingford] on the high way soe highly 
that he complained to the house of it, he is sent for 
as a delinquent.' 

Cromwell, anticipating the reforms of our own 
day, had made some progress with a redistribution 
of seats in proportion to the changes of population. 
A reaction followed his death, and Dr. Denton rejoices 


that old Malton, where the influence of the Eures 
lay, ' after much labour and sweat . . . hath a Joynt March 2, 
interest of electing Burgesses for ParP with new 
Malton, & soe the report is to be made to the 

' Dick's Parliament,' as it was called, met on 
January 27, 1659. Doctor Denton writes: 'I can Feb. 17, 
tell you noe newes but that I graced the Par? 
House by makinge a simple speech in it.' In answer 
to Sir Ralph's expressions of surprise and curiosity he 

writes again : ' Soft Sir soft. It is not for Plebeians Feb. 21, 

i i i 1G59 

to know why we made our learned speech in the 

House. But because you tell me of such good newes 
of your favorite, I will tell you. At the Com tee of 
Prividledges sittinge in the House, Mr. Howard 
having noe Councill there & being at a losse, I was 
fayne under the pretence of my neeces Interest to 
say some pretty simple things which was enough for 
Mons r le Medecin to quack withall. However it was 
as wise as my L fl Barkstead, who uppon a sufhons 
from the com tee of Greeviances for a false imprison- 
ment came to the barre (they sittinge in the House) 
the bar beinge down, with his hatt off, & there was 
treated by the name of M r Barkstead with out welt 
or guard, & made soe pittifull a defence that they 
have voted the prisoner (whose name I know not) 
free, the imprisonment illegal, & will take farther 
time to consider of reparacons & you are welcome. 
Gent. Coll : Tyrrell was in the chair.' 

This incident caused much uneasiness to the Pro- 


tector's party ; while Oliver lived his arbitrary acts 
were submitted to as necessary to the public safety. 
John Portman, formerly Blake's secretary, was im- 
prisoned, on Cromwell's own warrant, as a Fifth 
Monarchy man about to take up arms. Barkstead, 
the Lieutenant of the Tower, a brave soldier who 
dreaded nothing except having to make a speech, 
had deferred as long as he dared appearing at the 
bar of the House. 1 The warrant was pronounced to 
be illegal, and the prisoner ordered to be discharged, 
and thus a blow was struck at the existing govern- 
ment by the Republicans, under pretence of re- 
dressing a former wrong. Sir Ralph writes in April 
1659 to Monsieur Poppin, who played chess with 
him at Blois : ' I would now very willingly informe 
you of the state of our affaires heere, which are as 
bad as bad may be ; but all letters are now 
opened, & such as speake of newes are stopt, there- 
fore at the present it must needes bee forborne by 
me/ ' I cannot but pray & hope for peace,' sighs 
good Mr. Butterfield, ' though I doe not like the 
present aspect of things, especially as they are repre- 
sented to us in the country.' 

On the 22nd of April Richard Cromwell, yielding 
to the dictation of the council of officers at Walling- 
ford House, dissolved the Parliament that had met in 
January. But the difficulty of raising money forced 
the soldiers to have recourse to another, and on the 7th 
of May, to avoid fresh elections, the fragments of the 

1 Guizot, Richard Cromwell, i. p. 89. 


Long Parliament were pieced together and set up 
again at Westminster, under their old Speaker, Lent- 
hall. In the meantime all authority was passing out of 
Richard Cromwell's hands. ' The Rump ' announced 
that they were to ' endeavour the settlement ' of 
the Commonwealth ' without a Single Person or 
House of Peers ' ; but for eighteen days longer he 
still lingered on at Whitehall. On the 25th of May, 
however, his Highness the Lord Protector sent in his 
abdication, which the House instantly accepted with- 
out demur, and ' Mr. Richard,' shorn of all his titles, 
was requested to retire from Whitehall and ' to dis- 
pose of himself as his private occasions shall require.' 
So easy it is to fall ! 

Honest, kind-hearted, and conscientious, but 
hopelessly discredited as a ruler, this ' mute, in- 
glorious ' ' Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood,' 
retired into complete obscurity, endowed with ' a 
comfortable and honourable subsistence,' and with 
the people's nickname of ' Tumble-down Dick.' 

And now the hurly-burly began in earnest. The 
' Single Person ' had disappeared, and the Rump 
and the officers were left to fight out the old question 
of the independence from civil control claimed by 
the army : ' The Saints,' shouting for ' the good Old 
Cause,' wanted a pure democracy, while the Royalists 
were preparing in several counties to proclaim ' King 

* Lord Harry is sneaking,' writes the Doctor in 
June, with scant respect for the best of Cromwell's 


sons, ' and hopeing they will give him an Hon bla 
livelyhood, & its hoped not.' 

Where's now the impostor Cromwell gone ? 
Where's now that falling star, his son ? 

Cowley's questions would not have been premature 
in the summer of 1659, so utterly had the dynasty 
been swept away. The bills were not yet paid for 
Oliver's State funeral, and the country could hardly 
throw them upon ' Mr. Richard ' now, however 
unpopular this payment had become, and matters 
were no further advanced by the order given by the 
Council of State for 'the demolition of the chapel 
in which the late Protector's effigy was exposed.' l 
The House of Commons had to be appealed to, and 
Lady Hobart writes in July of an Act 'to mack all pay 
for the morning my Lord protector gave.' There are 
' rumours of many troubles but noe certainty of any.' 
Penelope is chiefly anxious about Henry's safety. 
July 19, Dr. Denton had told her that ' there is a Banning 

1 fi^IQ 

coming out against such Rabble Rout as he is.' 
' I pray god mak me so happy as that this Act 
against delinquents cannot touch my Brother.' 
The Doctor advises that Henry should send in the 
list of his horses at Stowe, ' for it cannot be safe for him 
to shuffle it off,' and he has sent in a list of his own. 
July 28, He writes to Sir Ralph : ' I hope this will find you 
safe and sound returned maugre all rumors, feares & 
jealousies, which continue high here, still, & want for 

1 M. de Bordeaux to M. de Brienne, June T " ff , 1659 (Guizot, 
Richard Cromwell), 


noe multiplicacon caused by addition of Cyphers only, 
& not one reall significant truth that I know of. 
Offensive . . . Persons, Armes, & horses are secured in 
divers counties.' 

Public anxiety is growing, a terror of a new civil 
war seizes upon quiet people ; but the troops of the 
Parliament are successful. Massey, who is leading 
the Royalists in "Worcestershire, is defeated and 
taken prisoner. Dr. Denton relates the accident by 
which he subsequently made his escape while riding 
in front of the trooper who guarded him: 'The August 4, 
horse stumblinge threw them both, by which meanes 
he escaped into the wood, & is not yet found that I 
heare of.' There is a warrant in August requiring 
Sir Ralph to send a horse to the ' George at Ayles- 
bury,' or WL to excuse : horse & armes.' l 

1 ' A coppy of the noate of the names of my Family and of the Aug. 15, 
Arrnes delivered to Roger Deeley the Constable this Day. !^59 

S r Raphe Verney. 

his sonne M r Edmund Verney. 

Rob'KfbM their2men . 
John Heron ) 

John Fowles, the Butler. 
Michaell Durant, the Cooke. 
Will : Farmer, the Groome. 

Tho : Hargate) ^ -,. 

8 - Gardiners. 
Tho : Dod ) 

James Hetheridge, an Upholsterer at worke by the day. 

Martin Dye \ 

Tho : Leaper - foot boyes. 

Will: Scott ) 

M rs Joane Westerholt, the House keeper. 

Jane Bates 1 Servant maides . 

Katherme Hazle) 

One Birding Peece of M r Edm : Verney s and foure Swords.' 

VOL. in. G G 


The Doctor's next letter to Sir Ralph is written after 

the Parliament had despatched Lambert to crush the 

formidable insurrection in Cheshire under Sir George 

Booth, and the greatest anxiety was felt in London 

Aug. 10, as to the result. ' I hope you will be soe wise as to 

1659 . 

put the horses in the woods. 1 pray let your 
Favoritt's shooes be pulled off that she may goe for a 
colt. We all wished ourselves with you last night ; 
this place was never so neare aflame, bussell, confusion 
which you will, as last night by the Judgm* of all, 
& what will be the Issue a few more houres I ghesse 
will declare. We have all a mind to be out of the 
towne, but yett hopes feares, & jealousies doe soe dis- 
tract us, as that we can resolve of nothing. I wish 
my papers & other things were with you, for we doe 
not thinke ourselves at all secure here. . . . The face 
of things may alter in a mom*, the battle not beinge 
alwaies to the strong nor the race to the swift etc ; but 
the open face of things at this present appeares thus, 
viz. noe considerable force, if any at all, up anywhere 
but with S r G. Booth, who with others are now pro- 
claimed traitors, & ag st whom there is gone a strong 
force. Desborough gone into the West to keepe all 
quiett there, with power to arm all 5 th monarchy men 
& the like ; new militias raisinge in every county : 
The only thinge that lookes like countenancinge 
Sir George, is the intended peticon of the city for a 
free par? as they say. This finds soe great op- 
posicons that for my part I thinke it can come to 
nothinge. I doe not heare of any one Cavalier 


in all this affaire, but that it is wholly on the pres- 
bytery, & those that fought & engaged for what 
they call the good old cause : the result out of the 
premisses is this, that if warrs continue the debt must 
encrease : taxes, free quarter, militia horses, besides 
the casualty of plunder must & will dock the revenew, 
& interest as bad as all these will eat like militia 
horses whilst you sleepe.' 

Sir Ralph is full of gloomy forebodings ; by 
reason of these new troubles he is obliged to suspend 
payment of interest to some of his creditors. ' I never 
yet fayled paying within the time, but if warres 
come God knows what we shall all suffer.' 

' Yours of 7 th instant,' writes Dr. Denton, ' like Aug. 10, 
phisick of various virtues, wrought severall effects on 
me both to laugh & stampe. I have beene with your 
blade, your Bilboa Blade, who would faine have made 
me beleeve that the j was made of green cheese.' 

When the first rumours of Lambert's victory 
reach London Dr. Denton writes : 'As for Cheshire Aug. 20, 
busines you must have a lusty faith & beleeve 
Lyes, contradictions, nay impossibilities, as that 
the castle is surrendered quietly, & yett taken by 
storme & every man put to the sword ; that Charles 
Stuart is kept prisoner by ffrance & Spaine, & yett 
landed here ; that Mountague [the Admiral of the 
Fleet] kist his hand to daies since, & yett he & his 
navy will live & dy with the parP ; that Booth & 
Lambert are in treaty, & yett Lambert refuses to 
treat at all, & other stuff then this I can send you, & 

G G 2 


this I take it is enough to torture your beleife.' 
Aug. 24, ' Kate was lustily promised to Rat : but now her 

1659 . J r 

heart misgives, & she finds many excuses ; the 
waters, coldnes of the weather, son Gape far from 
her when I goe to the fenns, & much more such 
trash ; but the truth is her poore hart is sett on 
Claydon & takes Calfe Ralphe to be the best Nurse 
& Provider in County Bucks.' 

Doll Leeke writes at the same time from 
Suffolk : ' The day was set for both the M r Gaudyes 
waiting upon you, but the troublesome times has 
hindered them, for it is daingerous in this county 
for one gentelman to visit another, & it is posible 
it might have binn as predidishall to you ; they 
might have found you or put you in the same con- 
disson as you were whan they wear last at your 
hous. The Asosiatioii is very quiet : the parli- 
ment have rased a great many hors : my lady & 
hir sonn has & must send out 3, too are gon. We 
have had a trope near to search the hous which we 
took unkindly for we thought we had behaved 
ourselfes so as not to be suspected. Senc the pres- 
beterians fight against the parliment I will think 
all things posible for I beleved them inseperable.' 

The question in everybody's mind was what part 
General Monk would take, and when it was known 
that he was likely to support the Rump, Lambert 
and the officers at Wallingford House forcibly 
Oct. is, dissolved Parliament, for the second time, and 
constituted themselves the sole authority. 


Doctor Denton writes to his nephew, having 
received, as he says, ' a Loyne of Caufe Raph. We Dec. u, 
hope to eat it merrily for your sake. Maugre all 
alarms & tumults : We are in the posture you left 
us : the City doth nothinge effective. Fleet wood 
hath gott the Tower by a trick, & Southampton 
hath taken itselfe, for whilst the garrison went out to 
trayne they shutte the gates & soe keepe them out.' 

The next day a new Constitution was proclaimed 
by the council of officers, and Parliament was to 
meet in February. Sir Roger writes : ' The comon Dec. 15, 
councell satt yeisterday from 10 in the morning till 
6 at night, and the result of all was not very 
acceptable to the generallity of the Citty ; they have 
not yet according to the petitions settled a militia of 
their own. What a few daies more may produce God 
only knowes : God fitt us for the worst of times.' 
' Several horses have been taken & when to be re- Dec. 20, 

T 1 1659 

stored 1 am to learn. Lambert is reported to be at 
Newcastle and his men reduced to some straits, being 
not supplied according to expectation with shooes & 
stockins, for if report be true a friggott that was bound 
for Newcastle with that kind of ware & arms, most 
unhappily mistook the port & sett in to Leith in 
Scotland, so that Monk's army have mett with them. 
Monk they say is at Barwick, a good distance from 
the other, yet its said that Major Creed had an en- 
counter with a party of Monk's & had not the better 
of it. Sir H. Vane is return'd and Salloway ; 
severall of Rump, with Lawson [the Admiral of the 


Fleet in the Thames] who for the present declares for 
a ParP ; I suppose the Rump, though some doubt it. 
Sir Arthur Hasilrig & Morley are still at Portsmouth.' 
Dec. 21, Sir Roger writes twice the next day ' by carrier 

as well as by Coach/ and tells Sir Ralph of the per- 
plexity and indecision in the City, where the Lord 
Mayor and Common Council had taken independent 
action. ' Lawson sent a letter to the Common Council 
that ther might be endeavoured a good understanding 
between the ParP Army & Citty, which must needs 
be the Rump. But they regarded it very little, and 
sayd they would consider of it another time, for now 
they were upon other business of concernment, & had 
but a very short time allowed for it, yesterday being 
the last day of their sitting . . . they could not 
conclude as to the Militia though their thoughts were 
much uppon it, but have declared for a free Parlia- 
ment. ... A Common Councill was chose this day 
& such a one as hath not these many yeares been 
known for Malignancy.' 

Dr. Denton hears that ' Wallingford House voted 
last night that Rumpe should sitt againe.' ' Here is 
great noise of a plott discovered which to us ignorant 
souls seems little : we are yet quiett & for ought I 
see like soe to be. Vane & Salloway are returned 
from Lawson & have obtained a treaty with him 
and Scott, & two others of each side.' 

Sir Nathaniel Hobart's work in the Court of 
Chancery was upset by the unsettled conditions of the 
time ; he had been ill of a pleurisy in the spring, to the 


great alarm of his family. ; I infinitely long to heare 
of honest Natticock,' wrote Sir Ralph to Doll, ' & to 
bee assured of his recovery, for a better friend & a 
better Man is not knoune to me.' Thanks to the 
Doctor's care he recovered, and Mun wrote to Lady 
Hobart : 'It is my earnest prayer that Destinye 
(though she pauzed a while) will never grow wearye 
of spinning the thred of his well deserved life.' Doll 
Leeke writes to Sir Ralph : ' I am conserned for my Nov. ao, 
pore brother & sister, for ther condision is ill by reson 
of thes alterasions in stat afairs, & may well mak 
them sad, but I trust thay shall have assistanc & 
protection from above, & it is no littell satisfaction 
to me that you are ther frind.' She longs for a visit 
from him. ' Really I wish it wear all the way carpets 
to tempt you.' ' The Troubles of y e Times,' Sir 
Ralph replies, ' have lately given too much leasure to 
our Deare Natticock, but I hope there is a Blessing 
in store for him that will recompense his present 

Mr. Butterfield is keeping a melancholy Christmas 
at Claydon. ' We expect here you should have no Dec. 25, 
great quiet a London, for the souldiers that passed 
up toward London this last weeke talkt openly of 
Plundering the city.' John Stewkeley, writing on 
' St. Stephen's Day,' is expecting Christmas company 
every minute, the late tumults in the city have made 
his brother very solicitous about his London pro- 

Meanwhile, the uproar in the city increasing daily, 


and the Council of Officers in Lambert's absence being 
less and less able to cope with it, the old Rump 
showed fresh signs of life. On Monday the 26th 
they reassembled at Whitehall, marched with Speaker 
and Mace to Westminster Hall, and made a House 
and began upon business. Lambert's army had 
melted away in the northern snows without waiting 
for the enemy. ' No Government in the Nation/ 
wrote Evelyn, ' all in confusion ; no Magistrate either 
own'd or pretended but the soldiers, & they not 
agreed. God Almighty have mercy on us, and settle 
us.' The Restoration was in the air, and in all men's 
minds as a hope or a fear, but as yet in no man's 
mouth. It is impossible to read these letters of eye- 
witnesses, giving the changes of opinion day by day, 
without realising how many various causes were 
driving men to this solution of England's difficulties. 
The new year 1660, Evelyn's ' Annus Mirabilis/ 
had begun. John Stewkeley writes from Hampshire 

Jan. is that ' the Rump is grown very big of late.' ' If any 
newes of consequence fall in your way that is not 
printed, it will bee very acceptable here, for Mercurius 
doth abuse us too often. What the Sword-bearer 
brought of Monke's coming up, may bee falsly 
rendered by him, therefore we desire you would 

Jan. 25, undeceave us.' Peg Elmes hears how Monk is 


' courted as he comes along on his march to town.' 
Sir Roger writes on the 26th : ' for newes I am much 
to seek for it ... the ParP hath sett forth a declara- 
tion . . . which is very fair and plausible, it affects 


the Ministry, the Law, Universities, the people's liber- 
ties, & many other good things. Monk is, I suppose, 
what he was, & what that is, a farr wiser man then 
myself cannot tell ; I heare he lay at M r Pierepoints 
on Thursday last . . . great confidence is expressed 
on both sides, if he satisfies both, he will be more 
lucky then ordinary.' 

Dr. Denton on the same day writes : ' Young Sir Jan. 26, 

i pro 

Robert Pye brought a petition yesterday directed to 
the Speaker to be communicated to some of the 
members now sitting, they say tis a cutter, but as 
yet it is not extant. Coll. William Maxey died sud- 
denly yesterday. ... I heare just now that Robert 
Pye & one Fincher his comrade are sent to the Tower, 
if they are, it is but what they did expect. ... Sir 
H. Crooke is dead & Sir Robert his son endeavours 
to make his title good to the pipe office.' 

Sir Roger writes again, while Monk was pausing 
at St. Albans : ' On Fryday Monck is expected heere, Feb. i, 
& most men are tired out with the various prognosti- 
cations that are made as to his future proceedings. 
Norfolk & Suffolk have sent up their declarations 
touchinge another kinde of ParP but I heare not of 
any more clapt up. Was Sir Robert Pye the smile 
that came from Moncks face, upon that occasion as 
you mention ? I hope so or rather wish that it was 
the result not of his disdain, but pleasant reception of 
that proposition made by the Lady/ 

Neither Sir Roger nor Sir Ralph could so far 
forget their old fight against Charles I. in the best 


days of the Long Parliament as to feel any en- 
thusiasm for promoting the return of Charles II., and 
they would not swell the crowd that waited upon 
Monk at every stage of his progress to London. 
Margaret Elmes reproaches her brother for his 
Feb. i, inaction : ' I wonder one soe exsackt in all thinges as 


your selfe is, should let soe greate a person as Moncke 
is to pas by soe neare you, without your invitation, 
or att least your going to complyment him with sum 
of your Neighbors ; I see nothinge can make you stur 
from your beloved Claydon.' 
Feb. 7, ' Lord Fiennes is ffone to Broughton,' writes 


the Doctor, ' & would not sitt because they act on 
a Commonwealth Bottom. If a free election come & 
he be chosen, he will sitt, or if this sitts & the Lords 
called in (of which there is some hopes) then he will 
sitt as two houses. I can say noe more but that if 
you are not a member, I misse of my aime.' 
Feb. 8, Si r Roger writes on the 8th : ' Monck was at the 

1660 & 

house on Munday last who expresst himself so ob- 
scurely that most men know not what construction 
for to make of it.' Sir Roger was not in love with 
the Sphinx. He adds a postscript the next day : 
' The Common Council was very stiff yesterday & 
will not submit to taxes, & would not own the ParP. 
Souldiers are gone this morning into the Citty, I 
suppose to reduce them, they will only make addresses 
to Monck.' Dr. Denton gives some further details. 

Feb. 9, ' Just now nevves is come that Monke & all his Army 
i fifin 

is marched into the Citty, on the occasion of the 


Common Council beinge mighty high last night in 
giving the Warwickshire gentleman great thankes 
(volens, nolens the L d Maior) promising to live and 
dy with them. It works apace now.' Monk was 
ordered by the Council of State to repress by force 
what was in effect a Royalist pronouncement by the 
city : he obeyed, and the city was overawed. ' Bris- 
tol for certaine,' Dr. Denton continues, ' standes 
on theire guard & will admitt noe souldiers. They 
that desired to passe through the other day, were 
dismounted at the gate leaving their horses & their 
Armes, & marched 10 & 10 quite through, with 10 
& 10 of the city guard betweene each 10 of them ; & 
when quite out of the citty had then delivered to 
them, theire horses & arnies again. There are your 
men, Sir.' 

Monk's attack upon the city nearly wrecked 
his own reputation as well as their gates and port- 
cullises, but he saw his mistake, and retrieved it in a 
moment. Dr. Denton tells the story : ' 13th of 
February, 12 at night. . . . As soon as Monke had 
sent the enclosed letter to the house [requiring them 
to fill up their numbers at once, and to dissolve on the 
6th of May to make room for a newly elected Parlia- 
ment], he presently drew his army into the citty 
beinge Satterday & complied with the Citizens, 
which was quickly spread, & uppon which there 
were bonefires circum circa, & from one end of the 
city to the other, Westminster etc. & with such joy 
& acclamation as was never yett seene. The Speaker 


(who sate late) in his march homewards affronted, 
his men beaten, his windowes broken. A Rumpe in 
A chayre rosted at his gates, & bonefires made there. 
Never so many rumpes rosted as were that night. 
What this will produce nemo scit. About 12 A 
clock this day at noone, it was generally beleeved it 
would prove Ignis fatuus, for that Monke was strongly 
looked for to dine with some Grandees at White Hall, 
but did not. This eveninge there is some more life 
then in the morninge ; the Common Council now 
sitting which will produce something, but whether 
mons or ridiculus mus I cannot divine ; they en- 
deavour all possible compliances with Monke & yett 
undermine. ... Sir G. Gerard this day indited, Okey 
& Alured att the upper Bench for secludinge him. . . . 
If you goe to Twiford tell my Lord he lost such sport 
by going out of towne that he is never like to see the 
like.' It was evidently hopeless for Kate to get her 
husband away. ' Oxfordshire declaration is now 
delivered to Monke.' 

The news is running like wildfire through 
Hampshire, where several private letters have been 
Feb. 14, received. John Stewkeley rejoices that ' General 
Monk hath declared for a single Person (you may 
Imagin whom) and for a Free Parliament. . . . We 
may all soon meet if the Wind blow from Flanders : 
w ch I pray for, pro Re : pro Ecle. Ang : pro reg : as 
a Subject, as a member, as an Englishman.' 

The contrary report prevailed in London two 
days later. Dr. Denton is ' out of tune.' ' Monke 


inclines to much to favor an Ingagement for A 
Republiq without King, single person or house of 
Lords. . . . The expected writts should issue to- 
morrow they will be chosen the old way.' 

The streets are full of soldiers. Pen, looking out 
of the windows of her London lodging, writes : ' I Feb. 15, 
wish Munke may be so happy a Parson to this poore 
distressed Land, that he may merritt Applause from 
all parsons, as yett I am not so much taking with 
him, as to delight my self with aney sight of his 

Sir Roger sends his version of the reconciliation 
between Monk and the city and 'of the great joy Feb. 16, 
that was conceived by inconsiderat persons (which 
were very numerous) by reason of his letter, which 
they pleased themselves with those constructions 
their phancies made of it, & no expressions were 
wanting to it. The bells & fyres fully discovered 
rather what they would have, then what they had : 
out of the same mouths proceed blessings & curses, 
for they who cursed him the day before for pulling 
down the gates, blesst him this day for coming into 
them. On Sunday thousands resorted to St. Paul's 
Church, to get a sight of him. He hath continued 
there ever since & severall of his forces at the Citty 
charge, who entertaine them with much seeming con- 
tentment. . . . What Monck will do to answer the 
expectations of all parties, I am to seek though 
very many may be deceived, I shall be non of them. 
. . . Addresses are still made to him, people will not 


be quiett. Lambert summoned to come in by this 
day, which if he refuse to doe then to be sequestred. 
This morning I was told that he was come in, which 
is contrary to what I heard yesterday. Sir H. Vane 
sent out of town, some sectaries, if report be true, 
disarmed on Tuesday night by Monck's order, with- 
out the knowledge of the higher powers. There are 
nothing but riddles asked. Secluded members as I 
learri visitt Monck. Some say they are up in the 
North & twenty other things as they would have 
themselves, but this is all uncertaine.' 
Feb. is, The Doctor writes : ' You may longe to heare 


of the fruits of the Bonefires, I can only in briefe 
tell you this, that all sides ply Monke with warm 
cloaths & he like a prudent person would fayne 
reconcile. I heare that he offered the secluded if 
they would only promise not to bringe in the King, 
that he did not doubt but to procure their sittinge. 
Dick Norton told him that freedom of ParP was the 
just right & interest of the nation & if they thought 
it fitt to bringe in the Turke, they ought not to be 
imposed on the contrary. Last night 10 & 10 of 
Rumpers & Secluders met before the Generall ; the 
result of which I cannot yet learne, but I doubt 
nothinge but wranglinge.' 

Feb. 21, Sir Roger announces the vote which would 

enable Sir Ralph to take his seat again, after sixteen 
years of ' seclusion.' ' Sir, without the least preamble 
to it or giving you an account of what pass't in order 
to the last and most unexpected turne : you may by 


this understande that ttie secluded members, by the 
assistance of Gen 1 Monck, were readmitted this day 
into the house in which place he was voted Cap* Gen 1 
of all the forces of Eng 1 Scot 1 & Ire 1 under the Par!*, 
Lawson to continue vice-Admirall.' 

Dr. Denton writes the next day : ' Monke brought Feb. 22, 

1 Pf*A 

in the secluded members who act & vote as formally 
as before, & take noe notice of anythinge. Our 
Cozen Green vile hath lost himselfe most wonder- 
fully amongst his countrymen in refusinge to doe 
as other neighbours did. noe man dissentinge but 
himselfe. Sir R. Piggott hath done little lesse. Sir 
R. T[emple] carries it plum on all sides ; he writt to 
Dick Win wood by coach yesterday, he havinge notice 
over night that it would be. We knewe nothinge till 
about 9 A clock. I have sent to hasten Dick W. to 
his duty, they are all earnestly desired. I wish my 
Lord Wenman were in a condicion to come up.' 

Penelope rejoices ' above all that by this new & 
great chang' she has lived to see her brother 'one 
more in a Capacitie to sarve the Country.' ' It would 
vex me to the hart to have us both out,' writes Dr. 
Denton, eager in the general excitement to add to the 
duties of his over-busy life ; ' but if Cavaliers are to 
be excluded we shall be mumpt.' There is also a talk 
of Sir Ralph standing for Westbury or Bed win. He 
at first fights shy of election expenses, specially 
as the Parliament is expected to be a very short one. 
' You say you will not stand, nor be at any charge/ 
writes Dr. Denton ; ' there is no great feare of my 


being qualified, & then I misse of my ay me if you are 
not chosen at Malton, where I ghesse the charge will 
be none or inconsiderable ; if there should come a 
dispute, a charge might arise but sure not much. My 
sister [Sherard] is sollicited for others, but she 
intends you or me, & you know I cannot be qualified, 
therefore you must.' 

Kind congratulations pour in from Ditchley. Sir 

Henry Lee has just heard ' of the great news at 

Feb. 23, London ' : ' I assure you,' he writes to Sir Ralph, ' it is 

1660 J . 

the best wee have had this many years & trewly I am 
very glad Sir R. Yar.: entends to serve his Country & 
friends in that Hon ble imployment.' He offers to use 
his interest on Sir Ralph's behalf, and desires to see 
him ' at Ditchley, though I confesse it has nothing 
that deserves an invitation from Cladon, though I can 
promise no person to be more wellcome thenyourselfe.' 
His mother, Lady Rochester, at once sets her agents 
to work, and writes to Mr. Thomas Yates to secure 
seats for Sir Ralph and her son in the elections for 
what was emphatically called a Free Parliament, 
though the electors seemed to be amiably ready to 
submit to the Countess's dictation, and to acknowledge 
it as ' their duty to their Country & their younge 
Lande Ladyes to serve Sir Ralph therein.' Lady 
Feb. 23, Rochester writes : ' This day I received a letter from 


you, with all the good newes in it, for which I give 
you thanks, and also for the care you tell me you have 
taken for my sonne Lee's being chosen a Parliament 
man, in the next election. I was formerly spoken to 

t/bS\ U 
I } 

_/rem a painting y J ' (iv at 

L)trunt(Js ff na 


for M r Appletree, whome I must now lay absolutely 
aside by reason that S r Ralphe Verney desires to bee 
one, who is a person whose owne merits is such, as it 
will bee a happinesse to the place, and they will have 
cause to give us thanks for him ; besides you know his 
relation to the children's businesse, obleiges me to doe 
him any service hee shall coinand if there should be noe 
oath imposed nor engagement S r Raphe will accept of 
it himselfe, and if there should be any reason to divert 
him, I shall desire it for his sonne. Good M r Yates, 
next to my sonne Lee, let not S r Raphe Verney faile 
of being chosen. What you shall say to the people 
of the place to encourage them to it, I shall leave to 
your prudence depending uppon your discreation in 
presenting his merrits, & truly it will bee /much to 
my satisfaction to serve him in this, & it will bee very 
kindly taken from you by her that is, Your friend & 

' If my brother St. John bee not chosen, I shall 
rather have him disappointed then Sir Raphe Verney.' 

Sir Ralph thinks the election may be managed ' if 
M r Yates bee quicke & cordiall.' Westbury is to be 
tried first, and if that fails he is to be put up at Great 
Bedwin. He is in no hurry to claim his seat in 
' Rumpe Major,' but is ready to stand if there is 
really to be ' a Free Parliament without any oath or 
engagement.' ' I am not confident/ he says, ' noe 
new qualifications will keepe me out, otherwise I 
must intreate you to looke favourably uppon my 
sonne.' Mr. Yates is most zealous ' if I should be 



wanting, I should neyther answer it to God, my 
Country, my Lady Rochester nor you.' 

Lady Rochester, who is a most capable woman, 
has her hands full with the property belonging to her 
first husband's children and grandchildren, and the 
parliamentary patronage that went with it. Sir Ralph 
March 9, dockets one paper as * Lady Rochester's letter 
about the rewards expected by the old Trustees & 
M r Yates, also about Sir Harry Lee's going to 
Malmesbury.' She considers that Mr. Yates ' ex- 
pects much for his reward, more then hee has reson 
for, though for the present it is my opinion the 
least notis is taken of it the better, betweene this 
& the next term we shall haav time too advise what 
is best too bee done in that perticular. That 
which startles mee most is the answare of the old 
trustees wherein they have put in something that 
. . . may ocasion a new suite . . . which will trobell 
us much, because at this time Fountaine which is 
much there frend is now owne of the Judges.' 

' Turncoat Fountaine,' as the Royalists called 
him, was an able and excellent man, though, like 
other lawyers of the time, he had cultivated the art of 
facing both ways. At the time Lady Rochester wrote, 
he was one of the commissioners for the Great Seal ; 
as his services were not to be had, Lady Rochester 
begged that Sir Ralph would write on behalf of her 
little heiresses, her grand-daughters, to * Sir Arlandoe 
Bridgmen, too take a perticuler care in it that he 
may direct Yates . . . your interest may doe much 


with Sir Orlando.' Sir Ralph doubts not but that 
Sir Orlando will be careful of the children's concerns, 
' but greate lawyers,' he adds, ' have commonly but 
little time to considder their clients' causes, unlesse 
they are well followed by theire friends.' 

Lady Rochester continues to pour out her 
troubles. ' Here is such a doe about providing for 
burgeses place the nex perlement, I have ben soe 
trobeled with Solicitors, for those places in the chil- 
dren's estate that it has bin very trobelsom too mee, 
but I put them all off with telling them that I am 
alredy promised as far as my interest goes ; I hope 
that Yates wilbe carefull in securing a place for you 
& my sonne Lee, & those will bee as many as wee 
can compas. The towne of Mamsbery sent too my 
Sonne Lee that if hee would come in person they did 
hope too chuse him, though there were at least 
thirteine that did sue too bee choose in that towne, 
soe my Sonne meanes too goe thether at the election 
for feare of the worst. Sir if therebe anything 
wherein I may sarve you more then I doe yet under- 
stand bee pleased to command her that is your frind 
and sarvant, ANNE ROCHESTER.' 

Sir Ralph writes to the young man himself, who 
had ' excused his coming to Claydon ' : ' I wish your 
land at Ditchley were as dirty as the Isle of Doggs 
(& as rich too) and then perhapps you would thinke 
our Vale habitable.' He advises that Mr. Yates 
should go to Malmesbury ' a few dayes before him to 
facilitate the work.' 


The rush for seats in the Parliament of 1660 was 
in marked contrast with the difficulty of getting 
candidates to stand under Cromwell's rule ; the great 
interest and importance of the crisis was fully under- 
stood, and the part the House of Commons was to play 
Jan. so, in it. Edmund Verney has ' a very greate desire to 
serve in Parliament .... to advance my understanding 
unto a higher piche, by learning the intrigues of my 
owne native contry, whereof I am wholly ignorant.' 
Dr. Hyde encouraged his ambition while advising 
him to ' expect the qualifications now hafhering here.' 
' Every day produces such vanitye of Contradictions, 
it is not possible to write any certaintie as yet. . . . 
I heare of no such Engagement as you write of, 
.... but certeynly I shall never advise you to 
hazard your Fortune, much lesse your Honour or 
Conscience for a little improvement of your experi- 

Edmund had asked Dr. Hyde to send him some 
books, but he advises him to wait till he returns to 
town, ' then you are sure to please your selfe in the 
print, volume and edition. To spend this vacation 
y r Father's studdy or the Parson's will furnish you.' 
His further counsel would not come amiss to a young 
member of Parliament of to-day. He considered 
there was much profit to be derived ' by sitting, 
learning, observing and voting there.' Edmund 
doubted his power of taking part in debate, and was 
conscious of some hesitation and imperfection in his 
speech. ' I have no English Authors to supply my 


want of words, but I'le be watchfull least I precipitate 
myselfe into any discourse, which shall exhaust my 
treasure of words so farr as to endanger the driving 
mee to a nonplus.' The lawyer is of opinion that 
more speakers fail for lack of thoughts than for faults 
of manner. ' Above all,' he says, ' the Resolution of 
deliberating and resolving what to say before you 
speak, will certeynly furnish you with words as well 
as matter, especially if you be carefull to speake the 
sense throughly, & avoyd the catch or repetition of 
the last word or syllable which fell from you. All 
which Time & Observance of yourselfe will certeynly 
produce. These things I should not inculcate to you 
whoe understand them soe weU, but that I must find 
somewhat to fill my paper besides expressions of my 
strong affection for you.' 

Dr. Denton writes that it is generally believed Fe h 29 ' 

^ 1G60 

the Parliament ; will dissolve this weeke ; the sooner 
the better, for under the Rose I have noe faith 
in Rumpe Major, for I finde noe difference in specie, 
but only the Majus & Minus. Never a Barrell better 
Herings. My cozen Nat hath not been in & I ghesse 
will not. . . . Your pudding & Beefe were very 
welcome. The Beef the best that ever was eat, I eat a 
whole Round last night my self, & Sir Roger & others 
sliced it soundly alsoe. Thanks in Abundance from 
all quarters.' 

Sir Roger's letter the same day shows us some of Fe | 3 9 - ult - 
the difficulties in the House itself. ' I perceive it is 
no easy matter to release ourselves, so many doubts 


arise upon a debate about the dissolution, that I feare 
we shall sitt longer then was at first intended although 
it can not be longe, in regard of the writts that are to 
issue forth for another parl* and therein lies no small 
scruple : which is as to the name in which they are to 
goe, which will with much difficulty be resolved. The 
Gen u Comission : the Instructions for the Councell of 
State, and bill for the continuance of the excise & 
customs passed on Satterday. A bill for the dissolving 
this par? was read the second time this day which was 
very short ; but on a sudden by allmost a unanimous 
consent layd aside, and thought fitt to be included in 
that which is to pass for the next parl*. S r George 
Booth's comittee satt this morning by 7 or 8 a'clock. 
I saw him & S r Tho : Middleton ther : I hope they 
will come of well : Massy walked in the hall this day 
though I saw him not.' 

1 Rumpe Maior begins to smell as ranke as Rumpe 
Minor,' writes the Doctor on the 1st of March. ' I 
knowe noe man pleased with their proceedings, here 
are great feares & jealousies that they have a mind to 
establish themselves, & to re-establish Richard . . . 
which is all at present, & enough to burne. . . . At 
the Committee last night they banded hard for one 
qualification to be that none elect or be elected, but 
such as had eminently acted against the Kinge, but it 
could not be carried : one moved uppon the Covenant 
the cleane contrary that none might but those that 
had acted for King & Parliament & I heare noe man 
spake against it.' 


Doll Smith, sending for money, writes : ' I sent March i, 
too barrors becaus I was afrayd to venture one of 
them alone now the souldiers are about.' 

' Yours of 28 th Febr. I received not till late last 
night & that by chance,' writes Dr. Denton on the 8th 
of March. ' The truth is Kate was in fault for she 
received it, & put it in her pockett and never thought 
of it till then. The face of things begins to looke a 
Squint. The officers all day yesterday in great con- 
sultation & it is said they will declare high against the 
militias, A single person, & House of Lords etc. 
What the issue will be, nemo scit. I shall want a little 
hay dust to sow the holes in the parsnage yard, I pray 
let Will gather me a little out of the barne, I beeleeve 
a peck may serve. . . . The militia of Bucks is 
passed & I thinke neyther you nor Mun were not put 
in.' The lists were apparently of men excluded, as the 
Doctor rejoices that Edmund is now qualified to serve. 
'Your son is turned Jockey (which you know I 
like bravely) beinge on Satterday brought in a Rider 
for the Militia in to the House.' He adds a week later : 
' I wish Mun much ioy of his new office, but he hath 
pittiful comrades,' and Sir Roger writes on the 23rd : 
' The bills for the Militia are passed ; & as I under- 
stand it M r Verney's name is amongst the Commis- 

' Doctor Owen is like to give up to Doctor Kin- March 9, 


nolly as to the Deanerie of Christ Church,' writes Dick 
Winwood. ' Sir Arthur is summoned to the house to 
answer some factiousness, Lambert is in the Tower.' 


March 8, 'Lord Allington is dead of the smallpox,' writes 

1 (\t\(\ 

the Doctor. ' This day Pryn moved not to dissolve, 
& for King & Lords with an appeale to the gentlemen 
of the Longe Robe to answer his arguments. He 
spake almost an honre. M r Annesley answered in- 
geniously confessinge his Arguments were not to be 
answered yet moved to dissolve. Chief Justice St 
John though present spake not one word. He hath 
definitely lost himselfe by actinge soe like a sollicitour 
for a Commonwealth, to have a Parliament moulded 
as in '54, & to have Scotland & Ireland included 
therein. It is Haver du Poix whether they dis- 
solve, or dissolve not, but most think they must 
March 14, ' They are resolved on my Brother Sherard, both 

1 (' (* f I 

for Knight [of the shire] and the Militia. I beleeve 
Sir Richard Temple doth hope the gentry will offer 
it to him, & if they doe I beleeve he will with many 
acknowledgments & much civility devolve it upon 
them againe, because he is sure elsewhere, & soe 
I hope are you except your D r horse you out, which 
he longs to doe. ... If you can gett in I'le looke to 
your deere & trees & buildinge to, for I love them all 
though I cannot manage them soe well as you.' Nancy 
writes her special news on the back of her father's 
letter. ' Youre furmity had broght forth a very fin 
keten for you, but by ill fortuin sumthing kiled her 
ketens & she proved very unnatureall & eat them up 
which is a gret greve to hir that is your duty full 
god daughter A. D.' 

We watch the last dying throes of the Long 1 March 15, 

1 fifiO 

Parliament. ' The house sat this day in order to a 
dissolution,' writes Sir Roger, ' but could not reach 
it, though they did not rise till nine at night . . . 
tomorrow they will dissolve, so much as in them lies, 
I longe for the time & for an opportunity of waiting 
upon you. . . . Bishop Wren voted out of the Tower.' 

Sir Roger writes again : ' Sir we are now at liberty, March 17, 
though much against some of our wills : after many 
sad pangs & groanes at last we did expire, and now 
are in another world. Yesterday morning the bill 
for presbitery & that for the 20,000/. for the generall 
passed, & by vote he is made steward for Hampton 
Court & the Parke, & so is at liberty to take the ay re 
when he pleases. About 6 o'clock we passed the bill 
of dissolution, with a perfect salvo to the rights & 
priviledges of the Lord's house after some opposition. 
Ther wanted not offers for a declaration of a higher 
nature which was to cleare the house from the guilt 
of the King's blood ; but this being by prudent men 
thought unnecessary in regard of our revoking & 
obliterating those votes which put us out of the 
house grounded upon that vote which was made by 
us the longe night ; so that that vote now stands 
good, & we think ourselves cleard from anything 
that followed. However some were pleased to pro- 
test & declare against it as an execrable act. Sir, 
theise were the last passages of that so long lived 
Parliament, which is not dead before, I question 
whether it lives not yet . . . though I may be dead 


as to a politick capacity, yet so longe as I live in any 
capacity, you may confidently call me & look upon 
me as, Sir, your faithful humble servant R. B.' 

' Since the dissolution we have had but little 
newes,' writes Sir Roger on the 22nd, ' but that 
Ireland would fain stand upon its own legges, yet 
willing to decline a separation from us, what they 
declare seem to be riddles to me. . . . The Generall 
& Councell of State were invited to bed & board in 
to the Citty . . . the first they refused, not appre- 
hending their condition to be so full of dainger as 
the Citty did, the latter they have accepted, & next 
Wednesday the Drapers treate them, & Generall 
Moncks Lady is the very single person of her sex 
that is courted to it.' 

The last show of armed resistance came from 
Lambert, and he was routed by Tom's old Colonel, 
Dick Ingoldsby, a regicide whom the ' turning wheels 
of vicissitude ' had brought round to the Royalist 
side, though he cheerfully declared that the King 
would probably cut his head off as soon as he 

And now the qualifications for candidates were 
being keenly discussed all through the country. ' I 
did little thinke,' Doctor writes to Sir Ralph on the 
17th of March, ' that sure any Qualifications could 
have admitted me befor you . . . but there is a 
word Voluntarily which will doe it, & therefore 
(Protector like, "As thus advised") I doe thinke 
to try my fortune Att Malton. Therefore make 


sure of Lady Rochester's place if possible, for the 
house will not be altogeather soe comfortable if 
we be parted. ... I ghesse your being of the 
Parliament soe longe after Edge Hill may perhaps 
lett you in, especially consideringe the temper 

the next House is like to be of.' ' I am glad March 21, 

A v, f i T 16f;o 

to see you are in soe good hopes of a place. ... 1 

have beene with Sir Orlando Bridgman who writt & 
passed his word to my Lord Hartford for you . . . 
he tells me both your case & myne will be as 
our Judges prove, but there is no manner of 
daunger at all in beinge elected.' Sir Ralph becomes 
more keen about his own election as the time draws 
nearer ; his cautious economy is forgotten. ' As to any 
matter of charge, I shall readily disburse it/ he writes 

to Yates ; ' those things are not to bee had Drilv : March 11, 

11 166U 

you know there is a time to cast away as well as a 

time to keepe, therefore being a meare stranger to all 
those persons and places, I must needs intreate you 
to doe both what & when & how you thinke fit ... 
if you thinke it fit for me to doe anything or move in 
any kinde myselfe, if you beleeve they expect it from 
me, let me but know it. ... I confesse I would be 
very loath to receive a Foyle . . . and if they will 
not chuse me, the lesse I appeare, the better it will bee.' 
Such conditions would seem ideal indeed to the 
harassed and hunted candidate of to-day. 

Even before the elections Royalists who had lain 
low were showing signs of life. Robert Leslie, who 
had an interest in Sir Edmund Verney's patent for 


hackney coaches, reminds Sir Ralph of it. ' Tis true 
in Cromwell's time,' writes Sir Ralph, as of something 
long past and over, ' some rules were made about 
Hackney Coaches, but unlesse a Parliament settle it, 
I doubt nothing else can doe it.' Leslie writes again : 
23> ' that whatsomever belonged to him by Patent, Pension, 
or Presepts, had been detained since the begening of 
these trobels. When I tuck my leave of his Majeste 
neire Paris, hee confirmed a former promis, which I 
had from him & his Father of blessed memory . . . 
all his Majeste's sarvents, & those that pretende to bee 
of that nomber, maks provesion each man fit for his 
qualete to give theare atendance upon his Majeste at 
his arrivall.' Leslie would be loath to beg, he has 
never done it, but as Sir Ralph has succeeded to his 
father's fortunes he ' must suckseide to his cindnes for 
his oulde frend, not onle with a littell mone, but with 
a gelding fit for a nold man to meete his Majeste on.' 
Monk was sending private messages of devotion to 
Charles, though he still held his tongue, and would 
commit nothing to writing. The elections proceeded 
amidst great popular excitement. The Cavaliers, far 
from being ' mumped,' were elected in large numbers. 
Dr. Denton writes a long list of their friends who are 
returned, but, alas ! after all the scheming neither he 
nor Sir Ralph are of the number. Doctor at the last 
yielded his interest at Malton to ' Phil Howard & 
M r Marwood who served in Dick's Parliament a very 
short session & at theire very great charge, as I heare 
neare 200/.' There was much courteous communica- 


tion between the candidates, neither wishing to stand 
in the other's way, but Doctor looks on this as ' noe 
Par? & that it will just call in etc. if that. It is 
the next must ratify & act the greater things & he 
hopes to be of that.' 

Lady Rochester's agents are afraid of her displea- 
sure, though they have done their utmost to fulfil her 
honoured commands. Thomas Baxter has said much 
at Westbury ' of Sir Ralph's interest & great abilities/ March 28, 
and is ' goeing tomorrow to Bed win. . . . My Lord 
Marquis notwithstanding some application hath beene 
made on Sir Ralph's behalf . . . useth all the endea- 
voures that can be possible against us. ... If you 
but saw the straing actings, & the straing people 
we have to deale with, you would admire.' 

The brother Lady Rochester had been so willing to 
disappoint was taking his own measures ; Mun's letter 
to Dr. Hyde, from Claydon, on the 16th of April gives 
us the result. ' S r Walter St. Johns and my father 
are chosen, but theyr election will be disputed, because 
that two persons more are returned which were put 
in by my Lord of Hertford. I perceive that I shall 
not be one of this parliament though if it had pleased 
my father I might have been elected in 2 places of this 
county from whence I write unto you.' ' The violence April 4, 
& rashnes of the King's party disorders & distempers 
all,' writes the Doctor anxiously. ' The Gallican A P ril 6 


Ministers have written to ours assuring them that 
the Kinge is a very good Protestant and much on 
his behalf ' the pendulum had not ceased to vibrate. 


fffio 17> ^ r * Denton writes : ' Here is great noise of 
Lambert's beinge at the head of 20 troopes, 3,000 
foot, taken Warwick Castle, the country comminge a 
maine to him, but not a word true. The worst 
newes is the K.'s interest cooles beyond expectacion, 
through the indiscretion of his rantinge party as its 
said, but I beleeve tis through the designe of some 
others, though they have been foolish enough.' 

April s, ' In many places,' writes Dr. Thomas Hyde to 

Edmund, ' Secluded Members and Rumpers are 
equally scorned, and in truth Neither Barrell is better 
Herring. 1 I could wish you joyned with Sir R. 
Beryton, or some other thorough paced gentleman : 
for I have a mind to translate the odious French word 
into that English one. Let nicknames and distinctive 
expressions continue uppon Factionists, Calvinists, and 
Lutherans & to diversifye Sectaryes : Only the Right 
Christian is the Catholicke.' 

When the Convention Parliament met on the 25th 
of April, 1660, England was in a frantic hurry to fetch 
the exile from over the water, and, as in another great 
revulsion of popular feeling, the only question men 
asked their neighbours seemed to be, ' Why are ye 
the last to bring the King back to his house ? ' 

The news from London woke joyful echoes in 
the country. ' Such universall acclamations of wilde 
& sober joy I never yet saw,' wrote Mr. Butterfieldin 
the first bright days of May ; ' we had our Bonefire too 
& Bells ringing even at Claydon. . . . Heaven & 

1 A proverbial expression of the day. 


earth seeme to conspire to make a faire and fruitfull 
springe of plenty & joy to this poore kingdome ; the 
seasonableness of which mercy now the generall face 
of Christendom seems to looke peaceable, ads much to 
our present happines. The fields & pastures begin 
to put on their best dresse as if it were to entertaine 
his Majesty in Triumph, & make him in love with his 
Native soyle. . . . Sure in the Middest of all our 
rejoycings it wilbe very difficult to satisfy ye Expec- 
tations of men and for Majesty to walk so evenly 
as not to give offence to our formerly dissenting 
grandees ; ye Lord give them all wisdome and mode- 
ration.' But such reasonable misgivings were 
drowned in the chorus of jubilation. 

An old blind prophet there was indeed, living 
far above the dust and tumult of the street, who 
made one passionate appeal after another to Monk, 
to the Parliament, and to the nation. ' By return- 
ing of our own foolish accord, nay running into 
the same bondage, we make vain & viler than dirt,' 
he said, ' the blood of so many thousand faithful & 
valiant Englishmen, who left us in this liberty, 
bought with their lives ; losing by a strange aftei - 
game of folly all the battles we have won, all the 
treasure we have spent' But the men and women 
in the street, weary of strife and harassing suspense, 
saw not what the prophet saw from his watch- 
tower, and gave little heed to his trumpet -blast. 
' My head is so testicated with the times, between 
hope & fear, 1 know not what I do ; if things be 


not as I hope, my heart will break, I cannot outlive 
it,' said one anxious woman, ' but I do not despair 
for I am confident it will be.' * 'I pray God send 
we may live to see peace in our times,' pleaded 
another, ' and that friends may live to in joye each 
other.' 2 Such homely words as these explain the 
Restoration, for London held but one Milton, and the 
voices in the street were many. 

1 Lady Hobart, March 22, 1660. 

2 Penelope Denton, March 8, 1659. 



A BELL, William, 116 
J. Abercrombie, Susan Mrs. 

(Denton), 128, 244, 360 
Abercrombie, son of Susan, 360 
Alington, Lord, 17, 76, 472 
Allcock, Frances, housekeeper, 

113, 115, 116 
Alport, Elizabeth (Bert), Mrs., 184, 

185, 186, 193 
Alport, Kichard, of Overton Manor, 

Cheshire, 185, 186, 283 ; and his 

children, 186 n. 
Alport, Susan (Verney), Mrs., Sir 

Ralph's eldest sister, asks for 

her brother's portrait, 23 ; refer- j 

ences to her death, 107, 185 ; i 

her husband marries again, 186 
Alured, 460 
Amies, Mr., 42 

Andre, a music master, 64, 80 n. 
Andrewes, John, and wife, a poor 

couple, 121, 122, 280 
Andrewes, Lancelot, Bishop of 

Winchester, 69, 382 
Annesley, Mr., 472 
Appletree, 465 
Aris, John, ' pleb.,' 100 
Aris, Rev. John, 100, 101, 102, 104, 

132, 133, 134, 136, 137, 338, 388, 

389, 395, 400 
Aris, Mrs., 100, 133, 279, 330, 388, 

398, 399, 400, 428 
Aris, Nicholas, 106, 398, 399 
Ashworth, Dr. Henry, 180 
Askew, Rev. Richard, 94 
Atkins, Colonel, 42 
Aubigny, Charles Stuart, Lord, 

356, 357; see Richmond, 3rd 

Duke of 



Audlev, the miser, 263 
Ayloffe, Mr., 16, 17 
Ayres, Lady, 211 

"BACKHOUSE (Bacchus), John, 

JJ 249 

Bacon, Sir Francis, 188 

Ball, a nursery gardener, 282 

Baltinglas, Lady, 204 

Barbies, Messieurs, 74 

Barkham, the Ely carrier, 206 

Barkstead, < Lord,' 445, 446 

Barrymore, Countess of, 184 

Bartie, Mr. and Mr. Richard, 36 

Bates, Jane, a maid, 279, 449 n. 

Bates, Mr., 232 

Bates, George, M.D., 195 

Baxter, Thomas, 477 

Bellinger, Mrs., a lodging-house 

keeper, 297 
Berin, Richard, 404 
Berkeley, Sir Robert, Judge, 284 
Berry, Theodore, a lute master, 88 
Berry, Theodore, alias for Edmund 

Verney, 297 
Bert, Edmund, 184 
Bert, Elizabeth ; see Alport, Mrs. 
Bert, Marv ; see Gape, Mrs. 
Beryton, Sir R., 478 
Best, Mr., 206 
Binnacombe, Dr., 325 
Blake, Admiral, 446 
Blaynes, a merchant, 406 
Bohemia ; Queen of, see Elizabeth 
Booth, Sir George, 175, 450, 451, 


Bordeaux, M. de, 423, 448 n. 
Bordier, a painter, 26 




Borlase, Sir John, 232, 414 

Bourne, Mr., 378 

Bovy, Mr., 191 

Bradshaw, 142, 144, 14G, 284 

Branghall, Lord, 288 

Brassitt, a farmer, 209 

Bremers, 365 

Brereton, Sir William, 283 

Brewer, alias for Edmund Verney, 

Bridges, Major-General, 283 

Bridgman, John, 260 

Bridgman, Sir Orlando, 246, 260, 
396, 397, 412, 466, 467, 475 

Brienne, M. de, 448 n. 

Brockhurst, Mr., 268 n. 

Browne, , 146 

Browne, Elizabeth Lady, 21, 22, 
23, 70 

Browne, Major-General, 245 

Browne, Sir Richard, 20, 21, 78, 

Brudenel, Lord, 415 

Buckingham, George Villiers, 2nd 
Duke of, 356, 407 

Buckworth, John, 370 

Burgoyne, Anne, first wife of Sir 
Roger, 415 

Burgovne, John, brother of Sir 
Roger, 870 

Burgoyne, Sir Roger, 2nd Bart., 6, 
7, 31, 32, 35, 36, 41, 47, 51, 99, 
125, 128, 217, 227, 236, 238, 248, 
251, 252, 261, 263, 264, 265, 270, 
284-289, 366, 370, 373, 390, 422, 
444, 453-458, 461, 462, 469, 471, 
473, 474 

Burlacy, Sir John, 414 

Burt, William, master of Winches- 
ter School, 354 n. 

Busby, John, Esq., of Addington, 

Butler, Major-General, 256, 415 

Butterfield, Mrs. ; sec Aris, Mrs. 

Butterfield, Rev. Edward, 133, 134, 
327-330, 332, 346, 367, 395-399, 
400, 401, 402, 444, 446, 455, 478 

pAMPDEN, Baptist Noel, 3rd 
\J Viscount, 415 
Campion, Sir William, 274 


Carnarvon, Anne Sophia (Her- 
bert), Countess of, 246 
Carnarvon, Charles Dormer, 2nd 

Earl of, ' the little Lord,' 246 
Caroll, a minister, 290 
Gary, John, 313, 314, 428 
Gary, Mrs. ; see Herbert, Dame 

Castilon, Mr., '357 
Castle, Anne, a maidservant; 71 
Castle, Dr. John, 406 
Castleton, Lord, 366 
Chamberlayn, 372 
Chaplain (A) to Lord Mulgrave, 

Charles I., 6, 7, 10, 20, 23, 32, 49, 

94, 95, 183, 274, 276 w.,424, 447, 

Charles II., 88, 91, 146, 154, 218, 

285, 427, 451, 458, 476 
Clarendon, Edward Hyde, Earl of, 


Claypole, Lady, 421 
Claypole, 'Lord,' 219, 220, 287, 


Cleark, Messrs., merchants, 378 
Clerke, Lady, 224 
Coke, Sir Francis, 240, 241 
Collins, a tenant farmer, 119 
Cornpton, Sir William, 413 
Conde, Prince of, 55 
Conway, Mr., an upholsterer, 130 
Cooke, Colonel, 241, 258 
Cooper, Mr., 397 
Cordell, Edward, 5 
Cordell, Robert, 5 
Cordell, Thomas, 4, 5, 6, 19, 33, 

36, 42, 43, 44, 67, 244, 259, 260 
Cordell, William, 4 
Cornwallis, Sir Frederick, 243, 248 
Cosin, Dr., D.D., 19, 87 
Cotterell, Sir Charles, 233 
Cotton, Sir John, 434 
Cotton, Sir Robert, of Comber- 
mere, 74, 249, 259, 317, 318 
Cowley, Abraham, 448 
Crave, Mr., 208 
Creed, Major, 453 
| Crequi, Due de, 417 
j Creighton, Robert, D.D., 19, 49, 

80, 81, 83, 86, 88, 90, 91, 92, 93, 





Cromwell, Ladv Frances, married 
to Mr. Eich/407, 408, 415 

Cromwell, Henry, 442, 447 

Cromwell, Oliver, 6, 7, 9, 21, 31, 
39, 89, 130, 133, 142, 153, 154, 
196, 217, 218, 245, 254, 261, 266, 
270, 271, 272, 273, 276, 277, 282, 
291, 302, 354, 387, 395. 407, 415- 
417, 421, 422, 425, 428, 442, 444, 
446, 448, 468, 476 

Cromwell, Richard, 174, 219, 394, 
401, 402, 408, 442, 443, 446, 447, 
448, 470 

Crook, Sir H., 457 

Crook, Sir Robert, 457 

Croton. a poor widow, 122 

Ctillen. Lord, 415 

Curtis, Richard, 120 

Cuttings, Lady, 219 

DAGNALL, John, 97 
Dalton, 418 

Danby, Sir Thomas, 323, 347 
Danby, Thomas, 323, 324, 326, 

327, 334, 339, 347, 348, 349 
Daniell, Mrs., 224 
Danvers, Sir John, 9 
Darcy, Mr., 259, 276 
Deeley, Roger, Constable, 135, 136, 

388, 449 n. 
Delawarr, Charles "West, 14th 

Baron, 219 
Delbo, Mr., 378 
Denharn, Sir John, 221 
Denton, Lady Elizabeth, 197, 


Denton, Sir Anthony, 197 
Dentons of Hillesden 

Denton, Sir Thomas, and Dame 

Susan (Temple), 179 ; for table 

of their children, see pp. 179, 


Denton, Sir Alexander, eldest 

son of Sir Thomas, 180 
Denton, children of Sir Alex- 
John, 181 
Edmimd, 29, 181, 182, 207, 386, 

402, 404 

Alexander, 181, 383, 403, 405, 


Denton, children of Sir Alex- 
ander (continued) 
Thomas, 181 
George, 181, 403, 404 
Elizabeth, 181 
Margaret, 181 
Susan, 181 
Anne, 181 
Arabella, 181 
Mary, 181 
Dorothy, 181 
Sophia, 181 

Denton, children of Edmund 
Alexander and two brothers, 
182, 405 

Denton, Mrs. Edmund (Elizabeth 
Rogers), 181, 402, 405 

Denton. John, second son of Sir 
Thomas, a lawyer, 99, 180, 398 

Denton, William, Doctor of 
Medicine, youngest son of Sir 
Thomas, his home and early 
years, 179, 180; Court Physician 
to Charles I., 180 ; cares for his 
orphan nephews and great- 
nephews, 181, 182 ; his devotion 
to Mary Verney, 182 ; ' Speaker 
of the Parliament of Women,' 
183 ; his three wives, 184 ; 
' Doctor's Widow ' and her 
daughters, 184, 185, 186, 187 ; 
birth of his only child, Anne, 
188 ; his friendship with Sir 
Ralph, 189 ; his life as a phy- 
sician, 190, 191, 192 ; his coach 
and horses, 192, 193, 194, 417, 
418, 419; his fees, 195; his 
letters, 201 ; sick with fever and 
ague, 201, 202, 215, 216; his 
Fenlands, and dealings with 
Vermuyden, 205-210 ; gives help 
and counsel in Claydon matters, 
99, 102, 105, 106, 123 ; his kind- 
ness to Tom, 148, 168 ; to Mary, 
210-214 ; to Edmund, 297-304, 
308, 334 ; to John, 357, 359, 3C4, 
365 ; prescribes for Will Roades, 
391 ; plays at cards with Henry, 
pleads for Margaret Elmes, 432 ; 
his letters during the inter- 
regnum, 442, 445, 447, 448, 450, 
451, 453, 454, 457, 459, 460, 46:?, 

I I 2 



463, 469, 470, 471, 472, 474, 475, 
477, 478 ; fails to be elected for 
Parliament, 476 

Denton, Katherine (Fuller), Mrs. 
William, 186, 188, 189, 202, 
205, 210, 212, 215, 216, 306, 315, 
316, 327, 334, 355, 392, 418, 
452, 460, 471 

Denton, Anne, daughter of Dr. 
William Denton, 60, 61, 67, 72, 
73, 128, 188, 189, 203, 306, 315, 
316, 327, 416, 418, 472 

Denton, Mr., a tailor, 188, 864 

Dentons of Fawler 
Denton, John, husband of Pene- 
lope (Verney), 108, 201, 228, 
430, 440, 441 

Denton, Penelope (Verney), Sir 
Ralph's second sister, loses her 
baby, 28 ; her debts and distress, 
108; illness of her husband, 201; 
her great poverty, John Denton 
imprisoned for debt, 228 ; a mis- 
chievous servant, 228 ; troubled 
tunes, 284; visits Jack in the silk 
warehouse, 374-376 ; writes on 
Mr. Aris's death, 388 ; her hus- 
band kicks her about the house, 
430; visit to Claydon, 439; 
quarrel with Peg, 439 ; her 
husband tries to turn her out 
of the coach, 440; anxious about 
Henry's safety, 448 ; her reasons 
for welcoming the Restoration, 
480 n. 

Denton, Mrs. Ursula, mother of 
John, 229, 430 

Desborough, Major-General, 288, 
413, 450, 451 

Desmond, George Feilding, Earl 
of, 406 

Desmond, Lady, 118 

Devereux, Sir George, 262 

Devonshire, Countess of, 111 

Dives, Sir Lewis, 274 

Dodd, Rev. Anthony, 215 

Dodd, Thomas, 449 n. 

Dodesworth, of Harrold Park, 410 

Donne, Rev. J., Dean, 125 

Dormer, Jack, 225, 400 

Downe, Thomas Pope, 2nd Earl 
of, 16, 17 


Drake, Francis, 99, 105, 171, 181, 

288, 315, 396 
Dresden, 442 
Dubbles, Mrs., a lodging-house 

keeper, 53 

Duncornbe, Mr., 395 
Duport, Dr., 79 
Durand, a tutor, 62 
Durand, Michel, 116, 132,279, 280, 

391, 392 
Du Roy, Monsr., teacher ' of 

natural philosophy, 88 
Duval (or Duport), Monsr., 4, 5, 6, 

19, 36, 43, 51, 78, 79, 124, 

Dye, Martin, 449 n. 

ELDRED, Elizabeth ; see Tryon, 

Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, 

Elmes, Margaret (Verney), Lady, 
Sir Ralph's third sister, her 
quarrels with her husband, 108 ; 
visits Gary at Preshaw, 110 ; 
household squabbles, 126 ; she 
and her husband agree to part, 
430 ; a tiff with her brother, 
431 ; her illness at Preshaw and 
stingy payments, 436, 437 ; visit 
to Claydon, 438, 439 ; writes 
about General Monk, 456, 

Elmes, Sir Thomas, 108, 110, 126, 
127, 168, 430 

Ernes, a wine cooper, 406 

Ent, Sir George, M.D., 195 

Eure, Mrs. ; see Sherard, Mrs. 

Eure, Lord, 316 

Eure, Margaret, 60, 61, 65, 69, 71, 
72, 74, 75, 78, 87, 249, 308, 315, 
316, 317, 318, 324, 325, 326, 
327, 338, 339, 347, 348 

Eure, Mary, 34, 60, 61, 65, 66, 70, 
71, 75, 76, 78, 87, 88, 249, 308, 
310, 315, 316, 320, 321, 322, 
323, 327, 328, 329, 331, 334, 
335, 336, 340, 341, 343, 344, 
345, 346, 347, 349, 350 

Evelyn, John, 20, 22, 24, 41, 118, 
423, 456 




FAIRFAX, Lady, 216 
Fairfax, Thomas, 3rd Vis- 
count, 407 

Fairfax, Lady Mary, 407 
Falkland, Henry Gary, 4th Vis- 
count, 16, 17, 232 
Fanshawe, Lady, 390 
Farmer, Sir William, 220, 449 
Faulkener, Thomas, a dairyman, 

Feilding, Lady Mary, wife of 

Charles Gawdy, 406, 407 
Fenn, Sir Robert, 359 
Fiennes, Lady, 419 
Fiennes, Hon. Sir Nathaniel, 227, 

290, 458 
Fincher, 457 
Fisher, Sir Clement, 262 
Fleetwood, Charles, 'Lord,' 207, 

208, 219, 258, 264, 265, 268. 270, 

286, 354 
Fleetwood, George, ' Lord,' 207, 

208, 268 n., 270, 354, 413, 414 
Fleetwood, Rev. Dr. James, 354, 

355, 356 

Fleming, Roger, 387 n. 
Florence, Duke of, 41 
Fortescue, Hon. T. W., 241 n. 
Foulkes, Henry, 36, 184 
Fountaine, John, 168, 466 
Fowles, John, 449 n. 
Franklin, Sir Richard, Bart., 320 n. 
Frost, 144 
Fuller, Bostock, 184 
Fuller, Katherine ; see Denton, 

Mrs. William 

Fuller, Thomas, 163 n., 180 
Fust, Bridget (Denton), Lady, 127, 

Fust, Sir Edward, 127, 358, 359, 


Fust, Jack, 357, 359 
Fust, Margaret, 127, 308, 309, 326, 

328, 338, 339, 347, 438 

GAPE, William, apothecary, 36, 
127, 162, 169, 184, 185, 201, 
211, 213, 287, 291, 365, 381, 388, 
390, 394, 396, 413, 418, 437, 452 
Gape, Mary (Bert), Mrs., 127, 128, 
184, 187, 212, 263, 287, 291, 365, 
394, 396, 413, 418 


Gardiner, Gary (Verney), Lady, 
Sir Ralph's fourth sister, her 
second marriage to John Stew- 
keley, 109 ; her children and 
step-children, 109, 110 ; wel- 
comes her brother home, 110; 
bidden to Claydon, 126 ; desires 
her brother's presence at her 
baby's christening, 229 ; frets 
over his absence, 230 ; writes 
on the day of Edgehill, 252 ; the 
Major-Generals in Hants, 260 ; 
writes about Sir Ralph's deci- 
mation, 275 ; mourns Edmund 
Denton's death, 404 ; an out- 
break of small-pox, 432 ; two 
weddings at Preshaw, 433-435 ; 
birth of her daughter, Penelope, 
434 ; her good nature to Peg 
and to Betty, 435-437 ; visit 
to Claydon, 437 ; letter from 
Reading, 439 

Gardiner, Dowager Lady, 109, 231 

Gardiner, Margaret, 109, 433 

Gardiner, Sir Thomas, Recorder 
of London, 109, 310 

Gardiner, Sir William, 378 

Gawdy, Sir Charles, 28, 29 

Gawdy, Charles (afterwards crea- 
ted a Baronet), 118, 248, 406, 
407, 452 

Gawdy, Framlingham, 286 

Gawdy, Vere, Lady, 118,221, 223, 
224, 225, 227, 235, 240, 245, 249, 
252, 282, 283, 285, 406, 407, 443 

Gee, Mrs., nee Spencer, 58, 59, 242 

Gee, William, 4, 5, 14, 19. 35, 43, 
44, 50, 54, 55, 56, 57, 59, 87,131, 
242, 260 

Gerard, 382 

Gerard, Sir G., 460 

Gerard, Lord, 89 

Gerrnaine, a servant, 36, 44 

Gibbon, Edward, 171 

Gifford, Lettice, 97 

Gillespie, a minister, 290 

Gloucester, Duke of, 20 

Glyn, 226, 287 

Goff, Major-General, 260 

Goode, Charles and Richard, 390 

Gorge, Mr., 207 

Gorges, Lord, 57 



Gras, M. Cesar, 86 

Gray, Lord, 409 

Gray, Lord, of Warke, 9 

Greenvile, 463 

Grey, Lady Jane, 67 

Griffin, Sir Lepel, 415 

Grimstones, family of, 303 

Grove, Mr., 434 

Grove, Anne (Stewkeley), 434, 435 

Gutteredge, a labourer, 118 

HAILE, Lady, 126 
Haile, Mr., 220 
Hall, Mr., gaoler of the White 

Lion Prison, 170 
Hallam, Mr. James, 174 
Hals, Richard, 352 
Hamilton, John, Duke of, 147 
Hammond, Colonel Thomas, 239 
Hampden, John, 192 
Hanbury, John, 131 
Harding, a wainrnan, 118 
Hargate, Thomas, 449 
Harlow, Major, 412 
Harrington, Sir James, 370 
Harris, Warden of Winchester 

School, 354 
Harrison, Mr., Lord Alington's 

Governor, 17 
Harvey, Mr., 391 
Hastings, Lady, 184 
Hastings, Sir Eichard, 21, 24, 25, 


Hatton, Lord, 20 
Hatton, Sir Thomas, 318 
Hawksworth, Colonel, 262 
Hawtayne, Joseph, a Barbadoes 

planter, 157 
Hayre, Sir Ralph, 282 
Hayre, Mr., 282 
Hazle, Catherine, 449 n. 
Hazlerigg, Sir Arthur, 53, 142,391, 

408, 454, 471 

Headley, Thomas, a carpenter, 118 
Heale, Lady, 184, 357 
Heath, Anne, a servant, 122 
Heath, Bess, a servant, 96, 112 
Heinsius, 49 

Henry, Prince of Wales, 10 
Herbert, Sir Edward, 73 
Herbert, Dame Margaret, 23, 24, 
25, 26, 27 


Herbord, Sir Charles, 177 

Heron, John, servant to Edmund 
Verney, 449 n. 

Hertford, Wm. Seymour, 1st Mar- 
quis of, 475, 477 

Hetheridge, James, an upholsterer, 
420, 449 n. 

Hewitt, Rev. Dr., 417 

Hewitt, Sir Thomas, 52 

Hinton, Dr., 172 

Hobart, Anne (Leeke), Lady, 126, 
201, 242, 243, 247, 305, 344, 357, 
359, 368, 390, 409, 416, 422, 441, 
448, 455, 480 n. 

Hobart, Sir Nathaniel (Nattycock), 
52, 73, 202, 221, 222, 227, 247, 
344, 345, 352, 393, 409, 416, 422, 
454, 469 

Hobart, Mr., 391, 392 

Hodges, Rev. Dr., 360 

Hogg, Mr., of Southwark, 163 

Holmes, 411 

Homan, a gamekeeper, 410 

Howard, Mr., 445 

Howard, Philip, 476 

Hungary, King of, 56 

Hunt, Mr., 146 

Hussey, Mr., 17 

Hyde, ' Count Hide,' 17 

Hyde, Sir Robert, 338 

Hyde, Dr. Thomas, 295, 307, 308, 
338, 339, 349, 468, 477, 478 

TNGOLDSBY, Colonel Richard, 

1 159, 244, 474 

Ingoldsby, Francis, 159, 444 

Ingram, Sir Thomas, 318 

Innocent X., 42 

Ireton, General, 142 

Isham, Elizabeth (Denton), Mrs., 

45, 53, 106, 221, 230, 232, 235, 

249, 286, 355, 400, 404, 428, 436, 

Isham, Sir Justinian, Bart., of 

Lamport, 196, 197,198, 243, 244, 

248, 251, 257, 291, 414, 415 
Isham, Misses, of Lamport, 197 

201, 249, 258 
Isham, Thomas, of Pytchley, 191, 

286, 392 
Isham, Hon. Vere (Leigh), Lady, 

and children, 248 




TAMES L, 6, 393 

tl Jansen, Cornelius, 23, 26 

Jennyii, Lord, 16 

Jones, 264 

Jones, the, 226 

Joseph, a servant, 336 

Juselier, Madame, 35, 75 

Justin, 190 

KELSEY, Major-General, 276 
Kendal, family of, 177 
Kersey, a mathematician, 305, 357, 

358, 359, 366 
Kibble, Eobin, servant to Sir 

Ralph, 173, 175, 236. 449 n. 
Kilby, Mr., of Aylesbury. 414 
King, Walter (daughter), 367 
Kingsmill, Sir William, 219 
Kinolly, Dr., 471 

Kirke, 'the Protector's Rider,' 408 
Kirton, Dr., 39, 385 
Knightley, Mr., 108 
Knowling, Andrew, 96, 97 

T AMBERT, General, 163, 264, j 
Jj 290, 450, 451, 452, 453, 456, ! 

462, 471, 474, 478 
Lawson, Admiral, 453, 454, 463 
Lea, John, a poor man, 122 
Lea, Squire, of Hartwell, 282 
Leaper, Thomas, 449 n. 
Leche, John, of Garden, 186 
Lee, Sir Francis Henry. 277 
Lee, Sir Harry, 228, 310. 311, 324, 

464, 467 
Lee, Lady, 228 
Lee, Sir Thomas, 261 
Leeke, Dorothy, 118, 202,221,223, 

225, 227, 235, 239, 241, 242, 248, 

250, 278, 287, 356, 364, 406, 421, 

443, 452, 455 
Leeke, Thomas, 251 
Leigh, Vere ; see Isham, Lady 
Lenthall, William, Speaker of 

House of Commons, 447 
Leslie, Robert, 475, 476 
Le Sueur, Sculpteur du Roi, 36 
Lewis (?), Lord, 232 
Lilburne, George, 142 n. 
Lilburne, John, 141, 142, 145, 146 


Lindsey, Montague Bertie, 2nd 
Earl of, 232 

Lisle, Ladv, 50, 52 

Lloyd, Francis, 36, 162, 184 

Lloyd, Mrs. Magdalen, 437 

Lloyd, Mary (Verney), Sir Ralph's 
fifth sister, wants a larger al- 
lowance, 28 ; welcomes her 
brother home, 111 ; Tom and 
Mr. Gape quarrel in her cham- 
ber, 169 ; her neglected educa- 
tion during the Civil War, 210 ; 
failure of a match for her, 211 ; 
her severe illness at Dr. 
Denton's house, 211, 212 ; her 
troubles and anxieties, 212-215 ; 
her marriage with Robert Lloyd, 
215 ; they settle in Wales, 437 ; 
their son Humphrey's birth, 
437 ; Tom proposes to visit her, 

Lloyd, Robert, 36, 130, 156, 159, 
160, 161, 164, 166, 184,211, 212 
215, 437 

Longman, Thomas, 45 

Longueville, Ladv, 347, 418 

Louis XIV., 24, 66 

Love, Alderman William, 376 

Luckyn, Lady, 307, 308 

Luckyn, Miss, 303, 304, 310, 311 

Luckyn, Sir William, 302, 303. 304. 

Lucy, Fulke, 444 

Ludlow, 284 

MAIXELL, Mr., 303 
Manchester, Ed. Montagu, 

2nd Earl of, 428 
Manton, 290 
Marston, a leveller, 9 
Marwood, Mr., 476 
Massey, General, 449, 470 
Matthew, a servant, 118 
Mauleverer, Sir Richard, 226 
Maurice, Prince. 274 
Maxey, Coll. William, 457 
May, Judye, a poor woman, 122 
Mayerne, Sir Theodore, M.D., 24, 


Maynard, Sir John, 144, 163 
Mead, Dr., 195, 203 



Middleton, Sir Hugh, 219 
Middleton, Sir Thomas, 470 
Miller, W. Roades's son-in-law, 

280, 391 

Milton, John, 254, 480 
Misho, or Michaud ; sec Durand 
Monk, General, 452, 453, 456, 457, 

458, 459, 460, 461, 462, 463, 476, 


Monk's wife, Anne Clarges, 474 
Monson, Lord, 153, 154, 409, 410, 


Monson, Sir John, 258 
Montagu, General, 377 
Montague, Admiral of the Fleet, 


Montfort, M., 5, 6 
Moorwood, Ben, 390 
Morley, George, D.D., 19, 47, 48, 

49, 54, 86, 89, 91, 277, 454 
Morley, , his son, 277 
Moscambruno, 42 
Moulin, a dancing master, 306 
Mountain, Sir Philip, 16 
Mulgrave, Edmund Sheffield, 2nd 

Earl of, 9, 184, 264 
Muschamp, Lady, 184 

"VpEEDHAM, Charles, 16 

1.1 Newman, a poor man, 121 

Newton, Henry, jun., 79 

Newton, Lady, 15 

Newton, Sir Adam, 1st Bart., 10 

Newton, Sir Henry Puckering, 
2nd Bart., 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 
18, 19, 29, 32, 33, 35, 63, 79 

Newton, Sir Isaac, 425 

Nicholas, Sir Edward, 245 

North, Roger, 40 

Norton, Dick, 462 

Norwich, George Goring, 1st Earl 
of, 245 

Nye, Philip, a minister, 290 

OAKELEY, Rev. William, 101, 

Okey, 460 

Orange, Prince of, 16 
Osborne, Dorothy, 42, 248 

Owen, Dr., Dean of Christ Church, 

290, 471 
' Oxford Kate and Oxford John,' 

Ozler, Mr., 191 

PACKE, Sir Christopher, 289, 
Packer, Major William, 265, 263 

n., 444 

Packinton, Sir John, 413 
Page, Mr., 130, 438 
Palmer, Mr. Henry, 161, 167, 175 
Palmer, Jeffry, 245 
Palmes, William, 350 
Palmes, , son of Mary Eure, 350 
Pas'ton, Colonel, 244 
Peel, Vicar of Wickham, 101 
Pellew, Lord, 118 
Pembroke, Philip Herbert, 4th 

Earl of, 9 
Pen Ruddock, 226 
Pepps, Mr., 397 
Pepys, Samuel, 86 
Peterborough, Henry Mordaunt, 

2nd Earl of, 107 
Petitot, Jean, painter in enamels, 

23, 24, 25, 26, 27 
Pettus, Sir John, 208 
Pickering, Sir Gilbard, 262 
Pierpoint, Mr., 457 
Pierpoint, 130 

Piggott, Mr., of Shropshire, 315 
Piggott, Sir R., 463 
Poppein (Pappin), M., 16, 87, 446 
Portman, John, 446 
Pottinger, John, 354 n. 
Prenost, M., a drawing master, 33, 


Prynne, 472 
Puckering (Pickering), Catherine. 


Puckering, Jane, 11, 12 
Puckering, Sir Thomas, Bart., 10, 


Pursell, a carpenter, 278 
Pye, Sir Robert, jun., 457 





' J. R.,' 7 

EADCLIFFE, Dr., 195, 196 

Raleigh, Sir Walter, 163 

Remy, M., 36 

Rich, Hon. Hatton, 17 

Rich, Robert, 407, 408. 416 

Riche, Mr., 368, 369 

Richmond, Duchess of, 356 

Richmond, Charles Stuart, Lord 
Aubigny, 3rd Duke of, 356, 357 

Richmond, Esme Stuart, 2nd 
Duke of, 356 

Richmond, James Stuart. 1st Duke 
of, 219, 356 

Roades, Anne, wife of John, 94, 

Roades, Hannah, wife of William, 

Roades, John, Steward to Sir Ed- 
mund Verney, 94, 95, 96. 97, 102 

Roades, John, jun.. 103, 367, 393 

Roades, Ralph, Parish Clerk, 
brother of William, 136, 279, 

Roades, William, Steward to Sir 
Ralph Verney, 94, 95, 96, 97, 
98, 99, 100, 102, 103, 104, 105, 
106, 114, 115, 116, 117, 119, 
120, 121, 122, 135, 136, 140, 
148, 166, 173, 174, 204, 234, 
250, 265, 273, 275, 279, 282, 
296, 389, 390, 391, 392, 393 

Roberts, Mr. Gabriel, 370, 371, 
372, 373, (Mrs., 375), 376, 378, 
381, 382, 386 

Roberts, Lewis, 371, 372, 373 

Roberts, Robert, 372 

Robinson, Luke, 288 

Rochester, Henry Wilmot, Vis- 
count Wilmot, 1st Earl of, 276 n., 

Rochester, Lady Wilmot, Countess 
of, 276, 277, 310, 311, 312, 464- 
467, 475, 477 

Rogers, Elizabeth, 181 

Rogers, Sir Richard, 181 

RoUs, Judge, 204, 226, 284 

Rupert, Prince, 

Ruse, a Dutch painter, 28 

Russell, Francis, 268 n. 

Russell, J., 286, 412 

Russell, Lord, 246 


SA PANTALEOXE, Portuguese 
Minister, 218 
St. John, Oliver, Solicitor-General, 

319, (his son, 413), 472 
- St. John, Sir Walter, Bart., 465, 


! St. John's, Lord, son, 319 
j Salisbury, William Cecil, 2nd Earl 

of, 16 * 

i Salloway, Major, 453, 454 
: Salmasius, 49 
Salusbury, Sir Thomas, 318 
Salvian, 190 
Sandford, Thomas, 271 
Sands, Hester, Lady Temple, 180 
Sands, Lord, 219 
! Scarlett, 440 
Sclater, Book by, 69 
Scott, 454 

Scroope. Colonel, 143 
Selden. John, 73, 393 
Selwyn, E. C., 354 n. 
Sergeant, Mr., 116 
Sgobbi, Antonio, 45 
Shakespeare, William, references 

to, 15, 99 

Sheppard, Luce, a waiting-gentle- 
woman, 2, 21, 33, 35, 37, 38, 39, 
43, 63, 66, 67. 68, 69, 70, 71. 74, 
75, 76, 77, 78, 86, 87, 88, 114, 
130, 317, 318, 338, 339, 353, 

Sheppard, Mr., 377 
Sherard, Captain Hon. Philip, 61, 

127, 128, 339, 349, 472 
Sherard, Margaret (Denton), Hon. 

Mrs., 52, 65, 66, 67, 70, 127, 

128, 202, 240, 244, 245, 255, 
256, 278, 296, 314, 315, 316, 
317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 
324, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 
330, 331. 334, 336, 338, 339, 
341, 344. 345, 346, 347, 348, 
349. 352. 354, 364, 387, 389, 
438, 464 

Shirley, Sir Seymour, 174 
Shugborough, Sir Richard, 219 
Skatt, or Schott, a Dutchman, 80- 

84, 89, 302 

Slingsby, Sir Henry, 318, 417 
Smith, alias for Sir R. Verney, 




Smith of Akeley (afterwards Sir 
William), husband of Dorothy 
(Hobart), 126, 206, 219, 220, 
266, 268, 410, 413 

Smith, Colonel (afterwards Sir 
William), husband of Margaret 
(Denton), 181, 202, 414 

Smith, Dorothy (Hobart), wife of 
William, 409, 419, 441, 471 

Smith, Nathaniel, 247 

Soest, painter, 380, 386 

Sophia, Princess, 26 

Spain, King of, 285 

Spencer, Edward, 54, 56 

Spencer, Lord, 89 

Spencer, Miss, 54, 55 ; see Gee 

Spencer, Mrs. Robert, 54, 55 

Spencer, Robert, 50, 54-57, 58, 83, 

Spring, Lady, 197 

Sprmget, Lady, 346 

Stafford, Thomas, 244, 245, 246, 
250, 292, 358, 407, 408, 410, 

Stanhope, Lord, 257 

Stanley, Mr., 208 

Steele, Baron, 226, 284, 360 

Stewkeley, John, of Preshaw, 
Hants, second husband of 
Gary, Lady Gardiner, 28, 109, 
126, 229, 230, 231, 232, 240, 
352, 354, 433, 434, 439, 440, 
441, 455, 456, 458, 460 

Stewkeley, children of John, by 
his first wife 

1. William, 109, 229 

2. Margaret (also called Jane), 
109, 433 

3. Anne, 109, 434, 435 

4. Ursula, 109, 433, 434, 441 
Stewkeley, children of John, by 

his second wife 

1. John, 110 

2. Cary, 229 

3. Penelope, 434 
Stewkeley, , John's elder brother, 


Stewkeley, Richard, 354 n. 
Strafford, Wentworth, 1st Earl of, 


Strickland, Lord, 316 
Strickland, Mr., 316, 317, 319 


Stuart ; sec Aubigny, and Rich- 

Stuteville, John, 197, 200 

Suffolk, Countess of, 184 

Sunderland, Henry Spencer, 1st 
Earl of, 259 

Sussex, Countess of; see Warwick, 
Countess of 

Sussex, Earl and Countess of,. 

Sweeft, John, 378 

Sydenham, Sir Edward, 170, 241 

Sydenham. Lady, 191 

Sydenham, Dr. Thomas, 196 

Sydenham, Colonel William, 196 

rrAYLER, Mrs., 401 

J. Taylor, Bishop Jeremy, 69, 

139, 382 

Temple, Lady, 191 
Temple, Sir Richard, 220, 225, 

227, 270, 416, 418, 444, 463, 


Temple, Susan, 179 
Temple, Sir Thomas, 180 
Testard, Dr., 75, 77, 309 
Testard, Madame, 35, 75, 76, 77, 

78, 87, 309 

Theobalde, Sir George, 406 
Thinn, Sir Thomas, 171, 172 
Thorpe, 226 

Tippinge, Mrs. Elin, 282 
Tollemache, Sir Lionel, 407 
Tomkins, William, 117, 118 
Townsend, John, an Oxford trades- 
man, 182 

Townsend, Rev. Robert, 181, 350 
Trevor, 288 
Triplett, 358 
Tryon, Alianora, 310, 311, 313, 

314, 320 n., 322 

Tryon, Eleanor (Lee), Lady, 310 
Tryon, Elizabeth (Eldred), Lady, 


Tryon, Peter, 310 
Tryon, Sir Samuel, 1st Bart., 310 
Tryon, Sir Samuel, 2nd Bart., 

married to Eleanor Lee, 310 
Tryon, Sir Samuel, 3rd Bart., 310,. 

320 n. 




Tuckwell, Francis, a farmer, 274 
Turberville, Mr., a schoolmaster. 

359, 360, 361 
Turville, Frederick, 352 
Tyrell, Colonel, 445 
Tyrringham, Mr., 414 

T7SHER, Archbishop, 73 
U Utbut, Mrs., 347 
Uveclale, Robert, 424, 425 
Uvedale, Sir William, 425 

TTAXDYCK, Sir Anthony, 23, 
V 24, 26 

Vane, Sir Henry, 284, 453, 454, 

Vaughan, John, 177 

Vermuyden, Lady, 207 

Vermuyden, Sir Cornelius, 205, 
206, 207, 208 

Verner, Lady, 391 

Verne3% Sir Edmund, the Stan- 
dard-bearer, allusions to, 10, 49, 
273, 274, 294, 299, 356, 406. 

Verney, Sir Edmund, jun., refer- 
ence to, 107 

Verney, Edmund, Sir Ralph's 
eldest son. spends his boyhood 
abroad, 25, 62-64; wishes to 
travel with his father, 34, 35 ; 
visits the South of France, 
Italy, and the Low Countries, 
40-49 ; remains in Holland with 
Dr. Creighton, list of his books 
and music, 80 ; is treated for a 
crooked spine, 81-84, 89; is 
anxious to come to England, 
232, 241, 242 ; his return home, 
268, 277, 293 ; careless of his 
father's wishes, 281, 294 ; family 
projects for his marriage, 296, 
&c. ; writes a foolish letter to 
his father, 298-302 ; is intro- 
duced to Miss Luckyn, 302- 
305; his slovenliness in dress, 
305 ; renews his acquaintance 
with the Eure girls, 308 ; courts 
Alianora Try on, 310-314 ; falls 
in love with Mary Eure, 319, 


324; sends Mr. Butterfield to 
plead for him, 327 ; his love- 
letters, 332, 337, 340, 343; 
consults Dr. Thomas Hyde, 
338 ; his final disappointment, 
350 ; his affection for Jack, 
353 ; Jack's letters to him, 365, 
366, 376, 383; his farewell to 
Jack, 384 ; he is ailing with a 
' queaziness of stomach,' 403 ; 
consults Dr. Hyde about stand- 
ing for Parliament, 467 ; is dis- 
appointed of a seat, 476 

Verney, Elizabeth, Sir Ralph's 
youngest sister; Bettj r wants 
clothes, 28 ; welcomes her 
brother home, 111 ; faults of 
her early training, 210; Sir 
Ralph fails to find her a hus- 
band, 249 ; her discontent at 
Preshaw, 435 ; visit to Clay don, 
439; her return to Preshaw, 
still gnmibling, 441 

Verney, Elizabeth (Kendal), Tom's 
second wife, 176, 177 

Verney, Sir Francis, reference to, 

Verney, Colonel Henry, Sir 
Ralph's youngest brother, ' a 
desperate Dick,' 28 ; Penelope's 
favourite brother, 140 ; his visits 
to great houses, ' at my Lord of 
Peterborough's,' 107 ; goes to 
Claydon. 126 ; Tom asks him for 
a horse, 177 ; keeps his horses at 
Claydon, 194 ; his harsh judg- 
ment of his sister, 213 ; fashion- 
able visits, stag-hunting and 
gambling, 219-221 ; at the 
Buckingham Assizes, 244 ; 
groans under the Puritan 
regime, 262 ; at Wolverton, 
264 ; wishes to find a wife for 
Mun, 344 ; applies for the post 
of ' the Lord Protector's Rider,' 
408 ; plays Dr. Denton for 
a racing colt, 417 ; visits Clay- 
don and Stowe, 438, 440 ; Pen's 
anxiety about him during the 
interregnum, 448 

Verney, John, Sir Ralph's second 
son, goes to Blois with his 



mother, 2 ; sick with a fever, 71 ; 
his education at Madame Tes- 
tard's, 35, 74, 75, 77 ; has small- 
pox, 78 ; returns home with 
the Eure girls, 87, 88 ; his in- 
dustry, 351 ; at school with Dr. 
Fleetwood, 354-357; at Mr. 
Kersey's, 357 ; at Mr. Turber- 
ville's, 359 ; Latin letter to his 
father, 361 ; his love of music, 
362 ; reads with Mr. Butterfield, 
367 ; studies arithmetic with 
Mr. Rich, 368 ; is apprenticed 
to Mr. Gabriel Roberts, a silk 
merchant, 370-376 ; inquires 
of his father respecting his 
future fortune, 379 ; is painted 
by Soest, 380 ; sails for Aleppo, 
his outfit and voyage, 381- 

Verney, Joyce, Tom's first wife, 
147, 174 

Verney, Margaret, Sir Ralph's 
sister ; see Elmes, Margaret 

Verney, Margaret, Sir Ralph's 
little daughter, references to, 
60, 64, 72, 293 

Verney, Mary, Sir Ralph's sister ; 
see Lloyd, Mary 

Verney, Dame Mary, references 
to : Sir Ralph's sorrow for her 
loss, 1, 2, 13, 35, 71 ; hopes of 
future reunion, 30 ; no second 
wife, 59 ; Mary's loss to the 
children, 61, 63 ; her opinion 
of Roades, 98 ; and of the Arises, 
100 ; her monument, 123-126 ; 
her luggage returns from Blois 
to Claydon, 129 ; Dr. Denton's 
devotion to her, 182 ; her judg- 
ment of her sisters-in-law, 210 ; 
is much missed when Mun 
comes home, 293, 299; Sir 
Ralph wishes Mun as good a 
wife, 305 ; ' ma chere mere 
definite,' 323 ; Jack's early 
memories of her, 352 ; Jack asks 
for her guitar, 362 ; Sir Ralph 
keeps the anniversary of her 
death, 416 

Verney, Penelope, Sir Ralph's 
sister ; see Denton 


Verney, Sir Ralph, Kt., his sorrow 
for his wife's death, 1 ; his 
friends in exile, 4-20; employs 
the Blois enamel- workers, 23- 
28 ; his financial anxieties, 29, 
30 ; starts with Mun on a long 
tour, 34 ; his wardrobe, 37 ; his 
purchases in Italy : coffee, seals, 
Venice treacle, &c., 42-46 ; 
meets Dr. Morley in Antwerp ; 
stays at Brussels with the 

< Spencers, 47-50 ; writes about 
London lodgings and a foot- 
boy, 51 ; returns home, 54 ; 
speculations about his marry- 
ing again, 59 ; his education of 
his children, 62-65 ; receives 
Margaret and Mary Eure at 
Blois, 66-71 ; his views on girls' 
education, 72-74 ; places Mun 
in Holland with a tutor ; his 
management of his estate and 
his dealings with the rector 
and the steward, 99-106; 
housekeeping at Claydon, 112- 
117 ; his cottagers and farm- 
tenants, 117-122 ; his almshouse 
and the monument, 122 126; 
his liberality to brother Tom, 
150, 152, 156, 175, &c. ; his 
friendship for Dr. Denton 
and his family, 182, 186, 189, 
&c. ; his visits to Lady Gawdy 
and Doll Leeke, 221, &c.; he 
is arrested and confined in 
St. James's Palace, 233-251 ; 
released on bond, 251 ; threa- 
tened with decimation, peti- 
tions Cromwell, and pleads his 
cause at Aylesbury, 265-279 ; 
his gardener maligns him, 279 ; 
decimation confirmed, 283 ; his 
anxieties about his eldest son, 
294-302 ; his negotiations for 
a match for Mun, 310, &c. ; his 
care of Jack's schooling, 353- 
370 ; allows him to go into 
trade and gives him an outfit, 
370-382 ; suffers from an epi- 
demic at Claydon, loses two old 
friends, 387-392 ; appoints a 
new rector, 393 ; sets up a deer- 




park, 408-411 ; draws up Lady 
Warwick's marriage settle- 
ments, 427 ; receives a family 
party at Claydon, 436 ; returns 
a list of servants and arms, 
448 ; holds aloof from Monk, 
457 ; desires again to serve in 
Parliament, 462, 464, 474, &c. ; 
his election disputed and 
annulled, 476 

Verney, Susan, Sir Ralph's sister ; 
see Alport, Susan 

Verney, Thomas, Sir Ralph's 
next brother, his begging 
letters, 138, &c. ; his quick in- 
tellect and callous conscience, 
140 ; crosses swords with Lil- 
burne in a war of wits, 141- 
146; his political treachery, 
146 ; his first wife, Joyce, 148 ; 
Dr. Denton's kindness to him, 
148 ; in the Fleet Prison, 150- 
153 ; wishes to go to sea, 154- 
157 ; in Lambeth Marsh, 158 ; 
enlists with Colonel Ingoldsl>y, 
159 ; feigns a journey to Scot- 
land, 161 ; goes to sea, It53 ; 
accused of high treason but dis- 
charged, 165, 166; craves a wig, 
167 ; his doctor's bill and his 
chancery suit, 168 ; accused of 
theft, 170 ; mining speculations, 
170-174; his wife's return, 
174 ; his second marriage ; his 
pious professions, 178 

Verney, Urian, 97 

Verney, Dame Ursula, 58 

Vernham, 226 

Villiers, Lady Mary, 356 

WAGSTAFFE, Sir Joseph, 226 
Wakefield, Mr., 51, 181, 

368, 370, 419 
Waller, Edmund, 221 
WaUer, Sir William, 412 
Walsh, Joseph, 11 
Walton, Isaac, 372 
Warwick, Eleanor (Wortley), 

Countess of, 17, 111, 243, 277, 

296, 311, 312, 320, 3S9, 407, 

427, 428, 429 


Warwick, Eobert Rich, Earl of, 

407, 416, 427, 428, 429 
Washington, family of, 122 
Washington, Amphillis, 96, 97 
Washington, George, 96, 97 
Washington, Henry, 98 
Washington, John and Laurence, 

the young emigrants, 96 
Washington, Rev. Lawrence, 96, 


Waters, Henry, 96, 97 
Webster, Mr., 277 
Wenman, Margaret (Hampden), 

Viscountess, 192 
Wenman, Thomas, 2nd Viscount, 

391, 464 

West, Rev. Washbourne, 425 
Westerholt, Joanna, housekeeper 

at Claydon, 277, 278, 280, 281, 

388, 420 
Westmoreland, Mildmay Fane, 

2nd Earl of, 256 
Whalley, Major-General, 261 
Wharton, Lady, 416 
Wheler, Sir George, 183, 195 
White, Colonel Charles, 174 
Whitlock, ' Lord, 1 288, 411 
Wilmot ; see Rochester 
Williams, ' Baronet,' 218 
Willoughby, Lord, 18 
Willowby, Sir Francis, 261 
Wilson, Mr., daughter of, 315 
Windsor, Thomas Windsor-Hick- 

man, 7th Baron, 176 
Winwood, Richard, 154, 203, 225, 

257, 410, 411, 463, 471 
Wiseman, Richard, surgeon, 307 
Wolseley, 290 
Woodcock, Sir , 417 
Woodward, George, 181, 405 
Worsley, Colonel, 166, 251 
Wortley, Sir Edward, 310, 313, 320 
Wren, Bishop, 473 
Wright, Dr. Laurence, 196, 201 
Wright, Messrs., Genoa mer- 

chants, 378 

Write, Mr., a sculptor, 124 
Wroath, Sir H., 444 

, Mr. Thomas, 464, 465, 
I 466, 467, 475 
York, Duke and Duchess of, 91 



H Ciassifzeb Catalogue 









Page Page Page 


Abbott (Evelyn) - - 2, 13 i Dent (C. T.) - - 8 Lees (J. A.) - - -7,21 

Saintsbury (G.) - 


(T. K.) - - - 10 

De Salis (Mrs.) - - 21 Leonard (A. G.) - - 23 

Scott-Montagu (J.) 


(E. A.) - - - 10 

De Tocqueville (A.) - 2 j Leslie (T. E. C.) - - 12 

Seebohm (F.) 

4. 5 

Acland (A. H. D.) - 2 

Devas (C. S.) - - 12 Lewes (G. H.) - - n 

Sewell (Eliz. M.) - 


Acton (Eliza) - - 21 

Dougall(L-)- - - 15 i Lev-ton (F.) - - - 14 


5i J 5 

jEschylus 13 

Dowell (S.) - - - 12 ! Lodge (H, C.) 

Shand (A. J. I.) - 


Alling'ham (W.) - - 14, 22 

Doyle (A. Conan) - 16 Loftie (W. J.) - - 3 

Sharpe (R. R.) - 


Anstey (F.) - - - 15 

Ewald (H.) - 2 Longman (C. J.) - 8, 9," 23 

Shearman (M.) 


Aristophanes 13 

Falkener (E.) - - 9 ' Longman (F. W.) - 5 

Sheppard (Edgar) 


Aristotle - - - 10 

Farnell (G. S.) 13 Lubbock (Sir John) - 13 

Shirres (L. P.) - 


Armstrong (E.) - - 2 

Farrar (Archdeacon) - 12, 16 ' Lyall (Edna) - - 16 

Sidgwick (Alfred) 


(G. F. Savage) - 14 

Fitzpatrick (W. J.) - 3 ! Lytton (Earl of) - - 15 

Sinclair (A.)- 


(E. J.) - 5, 14, 22 

Fitzwygram Sir F. - 7 ; Macaulay (Lord) - 4, 15, 21 

Smith (R. Bosworth) - 


Arnold (Sir .tdwin) 6, 14, 20 

Ford (H.) - - - 9 i Macdonald (George) - 24 

; (W. P. Haskett) - 


(Dr. T.) - - 2 

Forster (F.) - - - 16 Macfarren (Sir G. A.) - 23 

Sophocles - 

Ashley (W. J.) - - 12 

Fowler (J. K.) - - 9 Mackail (J. W.) - - 13 

Southey (R.) 


Astor (J. J.) - - - 15 

Francis (Francis) - 9 Macleod (H. D.) - - 12, 21 

Stanley (Bishop) - 


Atelier du Lys (Author of) 20 

Francis (H. R.) - - 22 j Macpherson (H. A.) - g 

Steel (A. G.) 


Bacon - - - 5, 10 

Freeman (Edward A.) - 3 Maher (M.) - - - ii 

(J.H.) - - - 


Bagehot (Walter) 5, 12, 22 

Froude (James A.) 3, 5, 16 Marbot (Baron de) - 5 

Stephen (Sir James) - 


Bagwell (R.) - - 2 

Furneaux (W.) - - 17 Marshman (J. C.) - 5 

Stephens (H. Morse) - 


Bain (Alexander) - - 10 

Gardiner (Samuel R.) - 3 ! Martin (A. P.) - - 6 

Stevenson (R. L.) 15, 

17, 20 

Baker (James) - - 15 

Gilkes (A. H.) - - 16 i Martineau (James) - 24 

; Stock (St. George) 


(Sir S. W.) - - 6, 8 

Gleig (G. R.) 6 Maskelyne (J. N.) - 9 

' Stonehenge ' 


Ball(J. T.) - - - 2 

Goethe - - - 14 

Maunder (S.) - - 19 

Stuart-Wortley (A. J.) 


Baring-Gould (S.) - 22 

Graham (G. F.) - - 12 

Max Miiller (F.) - ii, 12, 24 

Stubbs (J. W.) - 


Barnett (S. A. and Mrs.) 12 

Granville(H., Countess) 5 

May (Sir T. Erskine) - 4 

iSturgis(J.) - - - 


Battye (Aubyn Trevor) 22 

Graves (R. P.) - - 5 

Meade (L. T.) - - 19 

Suffolk and Berkshire 

Baynes (T. S.) - - 22 

Green (T. Hill) - - 10 

Melville (G. J. Whyte) 16 

(Earl of) 


Beaconsfield (Earl of) - 15 

Greville (C. C. F.) - 3 

Mendelssohn (Felix) - 23 

I Sullivan (Sir E.) - 


Beaufort (Duke of) - 8 

Grey (Mrs. W.) - - 20 

Merivale (Dean) - - 4 

1 Sully (James) 


Becker (Prof.) - - 13 

Haggard (H. Rider) - 16, 20 

Mill (James) - - n 

Sutherland (A. and G.) 


Bell (Mrs. Hugh)- - 14 

Halliwell-Phillipps (J.) 5 

(John Stuart) - ii, 12 

Suttner (B. von) - 


Bent (J. Theodore) - 6 

Harrison (Jane E.) - 13 

Milner (G.) - - - 23 

Swinburne (A. J.) 


Besant (Walter) - - 2 

Hart (A. B.)- - - 3 

Molesworth (Mrs.) - 20 

Symes (J. E.) 


Bjornsen (B.) - - 14 

Harte (Bret) - - 16 

Monck (W. H. S.) - ii 

Theocritus - 


Boase (C. W.) - - 3 

Hartwig (G.) - - 17, 18 

Montague (C.) - - 7 

: Thomson (Archbishop) 


Boedder (B.) - - n 

Hassall (A.) 5 

Montagu (F. C.) - - 4 

Todd (A.) - 


Boothby (Guv) - - 6 

Hawker (Col. Peter) - 9 

Murdoch (W. G. Burn) 7 



Boyd (A. K. H.) - 5, 22, 24 

Hearn (W. E.) - - 3, 10 

Nansen (F.) - - - 7 

' Trevelyan (Sir G. O.) - 


Brassey (Lady) - - 6 

Heathcote(J.M.&C. G.) 8 

Nesbit (E.) - - - 15 

Trollope (Anthony) 


(Lord) - - 2, 8, 12 

Helmholtz (Hermann von) 18 

O'Brien (W.) - - 4 

TjT-rell (R. Y.) - 


Brav (C. and Mrs.) - 10 

Hftdgson (Shad. H.) - 10, 22 

Oliphant (Mrs.) - - 16 

Verney (Francis P.) 


Bright (J. F.) - - 2 

Hooper (G.) - 5 

Osbourne (L) - - 17 

Virgil - 


Bryden (H. A.) - - 7 

Hornung (E. W.) - 16 

Parr (Mrs.) - - - 16 

Von Hohnel (L.) - 


Buckle (H. T.) - - 2 

Howard (B. D.) - - 7 

Payn (James) 16 

Wakeman (H. O.) 


Bull (T.) 21 

Howitt (William) - 7 

Pavne-Gallwey (Sir R.) 8, 9 

Walford (Mrs.) - 


Burrows (Montagu) - 3 

Hullah (John) - - 23 : Peary (J. and R.) - - 7 

Wallaschek (R.) - 


Bury (Viscount - - 8 

Hume (David) - - 10 i Perring (Sir P.) - - 23 

Walker (Jane H.) 


Butler (E. A.) - - 17 

Hunt (W.) - -' - 3 : Phillipps-Wolley (C.) - 8, 16 

Walpole (Spencer) 


(Samuel) - - 22 

Hutchinson (Horace G.) 8 Piatt (S. & J. J.) - - 15 

Walsingham (Lord) - 


Campbell-Walker (A.)- 9 

Huth (A. H.) - - 13! Plato - - - - 13 j Walter (J.) - 


Cholmondeley-Pennell (H.) 8 

Ingelow (Jean) - 14, 19, 20 Pole (W.) - 9 

Watson (A. E. T.) 


Cicero 13 

James (C. A.) - - 23 Pollock (W. H.) - - 8 

Webb (S. and B.) 


Clarke (R. F.) - - n 

J efferies (Richard) - 21, 23 Poole (W. H. and Mrs.) 22 

Webb (T. E.) 


ClegglJ. T.) - - 15 

Johnson (J. & J. H.) - 23 

Prendergast (J. P.) - 4 

Weir (R.) - 


Clodd (Edward) - - 13, 18 

Johnstone (L.) - - 10 

Pritchett (R. T.) - - 8 

West (B. B.) 

17, 23 

Clutterbuck (W. J.) - 7 

Jones (E. E. C.) - - 10 

Proctor (R. A.) - 9, 18, 23 

(C.) - - - 


Comyn (L. N.) - - 20 

Jordan (W. L.) - - 12 

Raine (James) - - 3 

Weyman (Stanley) 


Cochrane (A.) - - 14 

Joyce (P. W.) - - 3 

Ransome (Cyril) - - 2 

Whately (Archbishop)- 


Conington (John) - 13 

Justinian - - - 10 

Rhoades (J.) - 13, 15, 16 

- (E. J.) - . - 


Conybeare ( W. J .)How- 

Kalisch (M. M.) - - 24 

Rich (A.) --- 13 

Whishaw (F. J.) - 


son(J.T.) - - 20 

Kant (I.) 10 

Richardson (Sir B. W.) 23 

Wilcocks (J. C.) - 


Cox (Harding) - - 8 

Kendall (May) - - 14 

Rickaby (John) - - n 

Wilkins (G.)- 


Crake (A. D.) - - 19 

Killick (A. H.) - - 10 

(Joseph) - - ii 

Willich (C. M.) - 

J 9 

Creighton (Bishop) - 2, 3 

Kitchin (G. W.) - - 3 

Riley (J. W.) - - 15 

Wilson (A. J.) 


Crozier (J. B.) - 10 

Knight (E. F.) - - 7, 21 

Rockhill (W. W.) - 7 

Wishart (G.) 


Curzon (Hon. G. N.) - 2 

Ladd (G. T.) - - n 

Roget (Peter M.) - - 12, 19 

Wolff (H. W.) - 


Cutts (E. L.) - - 3 

Lang (Andrew) 

Romanes (G. J.) - - 13 

Woodgate (W. B.) - 


Dante - - - - 14 

3, 8, 13, 14, 16, 19, 23 

Roberts (C. G. D.) - 15 

Wood (J. G.) 


Davidson (W. L.) - 10, 12 

Lascelles (Hon. G.) - 8, 9 

Ronalds (A.) - - 9 

Wylie Q- H.) 


De la Saussaye (C.) - 24 

Lear (H. L. Sidney) - 22 

Roosevelt (T.) - - 3 

Youatt (W.) - 


Deland (Mrs.) - - 15, 20 

Lecky (W. E. H.) - 3, 14 

Rossetti (M. F.) - - 21, 23 

Zeller (E.) - 








ETC. 13 





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ETC. ---.... 





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